


AWOL

by orange_panic_archive



Series: Fearless [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Danger, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fights, Firebending & Firebenders, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Slow Burn, Travel, irohsami - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 60,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_panic_archive/pseuds/orange_panic_archive
Summary: What might have happened if General Iroh had decided to disregard President Raiko's order not to get involved in the Water Tribe Civil War? Where would he have gone for help, and what might have happened as a result?This story picks up about halfway through LOK S2E5, “Peacekeepers," and gives him a little nudge. Slow burn adventure.
Relationships: Iroh II/Asami Sato, Korra/Mako (Avatar)
Series: Fearless [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954804
Comments: 63
Kudos: 95





	1. IROH

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in parallel to LOK2 and is driven by the events therein. I tried hard not to change anything that was canon (at least in that season--and clarifying that I've only seen the show, not read the comics, so if it's not stated in the show I considered it fair game to make it up), and to have the characters only interact in what would be considered “off screen” from the show. However, I did fudge some timelines and character placement slightly for my own purposes. I also didn’t go back and re-watch the show, so the few areas where there is overlap might not match exactly in terms of dialogue, etc. All mistakes here are, obviously, mine, as is exactly zero of the LOK copyright.
> 
> This is my first work of fanfiction. Comments very welcome. Enjoy!
> 
> T for language, blood, fights, and some rather enthusiastic kissing.

“I’m sorry. My hands are officially tied.” General Iroh glanced down at his hands, which though unrestrained suddenly felt heavy and hot. He could hear President Raiko’s ringing footsteps as he departed the battleship. Having issued the order for Iroh and his forces to stand down in the Water Tribe civil war, the President had left quickly. Iroh imagined Raiko had been on the other side of the Avatar’s wrath too often to want to overstay his welcome. Leaving him, Iroh, to face her instead. 

He forced himself to look Korra in the eyes. It was the least he could do. It certainly felt like the least, at any rate. “I know it’s not the outcome you wanted,” he said.

Korra frowned. About average height and build, with brown hair in tails framing brilliant blue eyes, Avatar Korra looked to Iroh more like someone’s kid sister than an elite fighter and the world’s most powerful bender. But he’d seen her in action, and he wasn’t fooled. If she’d come to the United Forces for help, the situation at the South Pole must be worse than reported. 

Korra nodded her head after Raiko. “Coward,” she spat, and scowled. Her blue eyes blazed in anger. “So we’re on our own then.”

“Wait, what?” Iroh asked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Korra stared at him for a moment before replying. “I mean,” she said slowly, “that we’ll have to think of a better cover story than naval exercises.” 

Iroh narrowed his eyes. He had anticipated anger from Korra, but disobeying the order hadn’t crossed his mind. He frowned. 

“You would have me disregard a direct order from my commander?” he asked. He gestured in the direction Raiko had gone. “Not _one minute_ after he walked off my ship? He was utterly unambiguous, Avatar Korra. I’m sorry, but the United Forces can have no role in this fight, and neither can I.” 

Korra’s eyes widened. “What? You’re going to listen to that… that jackass?” She took a step forward, waving her arms in agitation. Iroh noticed her shift her feet slightly, centering her balance. He tensed. He thought she might not even be aware that she was bracing for a physical fight. “General, we can do this. We’ll think of something. Mako, Bolin, Asami, even Tenzin, they all want to help. We can—"

“ _No,_ ” Iroh said, his voice firm. This was going worse than expected. Much worse. “I’m sorry, Avatar Korra.” 

“You’re sorry? You’re _sorry?_ ” Korra took another step forward, balling her fists, unconsciously closing the distance between them. “My people are _dying,_ Iroh,” she said. “I’ve tried diplomacy. I have nowhere else to go for help. The United Forces were my last resort.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked quietly. 

“I would have you protect the people you swore to protect!” The Avatar was shouting now, her face red with anger. 

“I’m—” Iroh started.

“If you say ‘I’m sorry’ one more time I swear… I swear…” Korra said. Suddenly she spun, unleashing a gout of flame at the wall to her right. Iroh saw the metal pucker under the intense heat. She turned back to face him, her eyes filling with tears. “How can you do nothing, you spineless sack of _shit_ _?_ ” she screamed. She punctuated her curse with another blow, this time aiming a jet of air directly at Iroh. Surprised, it caught him full-on in the chest. He was a tall man, but the sheer force of her blast made him stumble backwards. By the time he recovered, she had turned and stormed off the bridge. She shouted back, her words amplified in the metal passageway, “I guess Raiko isn’t the only coward here!”

Iroh blinked, stunned. He felt like he’d been slapped. _Coward?_

He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’d never quite kicked. The deck was deserted, the crew having had the good sense to make themselves scarce when the shouting started. 

The Avatar’s footsteps thudded distantly on the gangplank as she stomped off the battleship. As they echoed softly through the passageway, it sounded to Iroh as if every one of her past lives had turned their back on him in anger.

***

That night, General Iroh did something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time. He got completely and utterly drunk.

Shortly after dinner he had allowed himself a small glass of brandy in his quarters to steady his nerves. The interaction with Raiko and the fight with the Avatar had bothered him more than he wanted to show, and he had made a point of recruiting bright and perceptive men to his command. The small glass, proving ineffective, had turned into a second, which had turned into a third, larger glass. After that he lost count. 

Since joining the United Forces at 17, Iroh had mostly drunk tea, believing that modeling temperance would inspire that quality in his men. He hadn’t had more than a beer or a polite social drink in the seven years since, and the brandy hit him hard. It was now well after lights out, and a cold breeze blew through the small square window he’d left open to the night. The bottle of expensive liquor, which he kept on hand to offer visiting dignitaries and rarely used, sat on the nightstand. It was three-quarters empty. 

The room itself was small and spare, its gray metal walls bare. A narrow bed lay against one wall, a worn desk against the other. A wardrobe in-between doubled as a bookshelf. When he took command of the fleet, Iroh had insisted on using the larger and more lavish captain’s quarters as a communal area for officers and occasional meeting room. Although he’d grown up in fairly opulent surroundings, he’d never understood why some people invested so much money in spaces where they were mostly unconscious.

Iroh himself lay stretched out on his back on the small bed, arms spread wide. He stared at the ceiling, which was slowly revolving as if dangled from a wire. At some point he’d dressed down to his shirtsleeves; his normally immaculate scarlet uniform lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Hours of running his hand through his dark hair had made it stick up in all directions, giving him the look of someone who’d been mildly electrocuted. 

A gust of wind ruffled something to his right. Iroh slowly turned his head, looking for the noise. A haphazard stack of papers on the desk fluttered in the breeze. He took in the nearly empty bottle and rumpled uniform as well and grimaced. He’d been a surprisingly untidy child, and his quarters now looked more like the domain of his six-year-old self than the military man he’d become. He’d been doing something at the desk with those papers, too, but he couldn’t quite focus enough to remember what it had been. 

_If I was my CO I’d throw me in the drink,_ he thought, and snorted softly aloud. The snort in the silent room struck him as even funnier, and was followed by a deep belly laugh. The laugh triggered a sudden lurch from the dangling ceiling however, and Iroh’s stomach rolled with it. He shut his eyes tight and breathed in slowly, holding his breath for a few seconds before exhaling, willing the world still. It was a meditation trick he’d developed during his first few months at sea where, to his profound embarrassment, he was almost paralyzed by seasickness. He’d never admitted this to anyone, then or since, for fear they’d think him weak or unfit to serve. Healthy and athletic all his life, and from a long line of naval commanders, even now it was a surprisingly deep source of shame.

 _Shame,_ Iroh thought, still breathing in and out to counts of ten. _Unfit to serve._ Suddenly, Avatar Korra’s words came back to him, squashing what remained of his good humor. _Not the only coward here._ He opened his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it, his face darkening into a scowl. He didn’t know why the argument had rattled him so much. He’d been in his share of firefights, both verbal and literal, and he’d never felt the need to drink himself into oblivion afterwards. And why connect Korra’s insults with shame?

“Because part of me knows she’s right, dammit,” Iroh said to the empty room, an edge in his voice. 

_I would have you protect the people you swore to protect._

He sat up with a grimace. The room spun wildly, but he repeated the breathing exercise and steadied himself. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet cold on the metal floor, and made his way slowly to the desk. The papers were maps of the South Pole, pulled from the ship’s intelligence files and incredibly detailed. The topmost map showed the capital down to the building level, each business and home to scale and neatly labeled. He also remembered what he’d been doing before he’d lost track of time. He’d been trying to estimate probable civilian casualties.

General Iroh of the United Forces stared drunkenly down at the drawing of hundreds of tiny homes. Homes that, in all likelihood, were already burning.

_Coward._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, but what happened to General Iroh after the Equalist rebellion? He just kind of disappeared. If you're interested in one take on the events before AWOL, you can find them in the companion piece, Team Bosamiroh, here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393658/chapters/66949807


	2. ASAMI

“I’m sorry, sir, but if this is about the mecha tanks you are simply going to have to wait.” Asami had found it was best to be up-front and assertive about the loss, but that hadn’t kept her clients from an endless barrage of angry phone calls. No one likes to hear about a shortage of state-of-the-art military equipment with a war on. 

“No, wait, Miss Sato—" the voice on the phone said. He sounded urgent. They all did.

Asami cut in. “No refunds are available at this time, as we still have hopes of recovering the lost inventory. If you would like to switch your order to another product line, such as Satomobiles, Future Industries is willing to credit your account 100% of the original order value.”

“But—" the man on the phone interjected.

“Now, I’m going to transfer you to my assistant and she’ll take your name, number, and order number and we’ll get back to you as soon as we have a new shipping date,” she continued. The less you let them say, the better. Asami glanced at the clock. 5:45. She could probably cut out after this call. Not that she had anywhere to go. Another long evening loomed before her, alone in her giant house. She told herself that she wasn’t going to call Mako, and knew that she would anyway.

“Please, if you’ll just listen—"

“Thank you for understa—" She was already moving the receiver away from her mouth, her finger hovering over the transfer switch. 

“ _IDON’TNEEDAMECHATANK!_ ” The voice on the phone was nearly shouting now. That caught her attention. At least it was a change of pace. She put the receiver back to her ear. 

“Okay,” she said in a crisp, businesslike tone. “What were you looking for?”

“I never thought I’d say this, Miss Sato,” said the voice, “but I’d like to get back on one of your airplanes.”

***  
  


Asami pulled up to the old Future Industries hangar later that evening. She hadn’t been back since the battle with her father the year before, and the little airstrip had a distinctly abandoned look. Weeds grew up between the cracks and gouges that Bolin’s earthbending had left in the runway, and boulders lay strewn about everywhere on the broken concrete. The hangar itself was covered in black, charred spots. In the gathering dark, Asami thought it looked like the building had molded.

She rummaged in her bag, pulled out the old Equalist glove she’d recovered and strapped it on. A girl couldn’t be too careful, especially when meeting someone, a man, alone, in the dark, at an abandoned location that had been built specifically to be secret. As she thought about it, the whole idea started to seem unwise. And his request had been so _odd._

Before she had a chance to change her mind, a fire flared near the hangar. It illuminated a young man, dressed in dark clothes, who appeared to be holding the flame cupped in his right hand. He waved, motioning her over. As she moved closer she confirmed the man as General Iroh of the United Forces. Though she hadn’t seen him since they’d fought her father and the Equalists together, she’d known him well enough to recognize him easily. Taller than average, he had thick black hair that he wore slicked back and the typical pale skin and golden eyes of the Fire Nation. Handsome in an angular sort of way, he had the kind of tense, uncomfortable look that she associated only with military men, nuns, and Lin Beifong. Upon closer inspection, she saw that he wasn’t wearing his uniform, instead sporting a dark cloth tactical jacket over a black t-shirt and fatigues. A duffel bag lay at his feet.

“Thank you for meeting on such short notice, Miss Sato,” he said. He gave her a stiff, formal nod. “And I apologize for not saying more on the phone. My request is of a somewhat sensitive nature.”

“Good evening, General Iroh,” Asami said. She looked around, a sad smile on her face. “Given how Future Industries destroyed most of your fleet last year, it was the least I could do.” 

“Not at all, Miss Sato,” Iroh said. “I don’t hold you or your company accountable for what Amon did. Or your father.” Then he frowned. “I also apologize for asking you to meet here. It must be painful for you. I didn’t think.” He glanced down, looking awkward, and toed at a charred spot in the earth with one black boot. “Besides, I seem to recall that I single-handedly destroyed most of Future Industries’ planes myself.” He glanced up and gave her a small smile. 

“Then we’re even,” Asami said quickly. She didn’t want to relive the battle that had landed her father, deservedly, in prison. She started into the hangar and changed the subject. “How’s your arm, by the way?” she asked, recalling the large bandage he’d had on his bicep the last time they’d met.

“Fine,” Iroh said. “Burns aren’t exactly a new experience. After all, I have three siblings.” 

They walked into the hangar together, Iroh holding up the flame in his hand until Asami could throw the light switch. The hangar was a wreck. Mecha parts and boulders lay strewn across the floor. Scorch marks from fire and electricity were everywhere, and a particularly intense blast had slagged a hole as big as a badgermole in the back wall. Caught up in the adrenaline of the battle and her father’s subsequent arrest, she hadn’t realized how completely they had destroyed the facility. She just hoped she was right about what might still be serviceable.


	3. IROH

“It’s an earlier model, but she’ll fly,” said Asami. “My father loved the prototypes, so I was betting he hadn’t sent this one into battle.” She gestured to a gray biplane, which had been concealed beneath a tarp in the far corner of the hangar. “He thought a museum might want it one day.” 

Iroh nodded. The “earlier model” looked identical to the planes he’d taken down in the battle with the Equalists. He hated to admit it, but most machines looked the same to him. In the military he’d memorized the types of ships and airships relevant to his command, but when it came to anything else—motorbikes, cars, trains, airplanes—he just counted the number of wheels or wings and called it good. He did, however, know better than to say as much to an engineer. As long as it flew, it would serve his purpose.

“This will do, thank you, Miss Sato,” said Iroh. “Can you remind me how to fly it? I got the basic idea last year, but a refresher would be helpful.”

Asami stared at him. “No,” she said finally.

“No?” Iroh asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a problem. He thought he had gist of it, but a tutorial would certainly be useful. The young woman must be pressed for time though, and probably considered herself above giving individual lessons. “Well, if it’s really that simple…” He moved to walk past Asami to the plane. 

Her hand shot out to his chest, stopping him cold. “I mean, _no,_ ” she said. She narrowed her eyes, brows knitting. “Do you mean to tell me that you called me asking to rent an airplane, an airplane that you intended to fly, _my very last airplane,_ and your only flight experience is from the one time you hopped from plane to plane, setting them all on fire?” 

Technically, this was true. 

“I understand the basics, Miss Sato,” Iroh said, “and time is short. There’s a stick in the middle, and you pull it one way for up and the other for down, which is not that dissimilar to—"

Her green eyes flashed. “Don’t ‘Miss Sato’ me, General.” She removed the hand restraining him, but to his surprise started stabbing at him with one angry finger. “I don’t care how urgent your _mission_ (stab) is, you are not going anywhere _near_ (stab) my airplane if all you know is that there’s a _stick_ (stab) in the middle you can _pull_ (stab) on.” She glared at him.

“Really, Miss Sato,” Iroh said, flustered. Truth be told he was as skeptical of his ability to fly as she was, but he hadn’t thought of another way to get to the South Pole in time and undetected. He’d have to chance it. But he saw from the set of Asami’s jaw that she wouldn’t let him go easily. He would have to tell her at least some of what he was planning if he was going to convince her to let him borrow the aircraft. 

Iroh sighed. “The less you know, the better. I promise. But, I can tell you this much. I know that you are friends with Avatar Korra, and would wish to help her if you could. She said as much to me herself. I am trying to help her as well, and her people, but circumstances require that I do it a bit…” He searched for the right word. “Unconventionally,” he finished, waving a hand in the direction of the plane. He pulled her hand away from his chest and held it briefly. “Please, Miss Sato,” he said. “Will you help me help her?” 

Asami’s face softened. She glanced quickly at her hand, which Iroh immediately dropped. “Of course,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Where am I taking you?”

***

Iroh was impressed. After he’d reluctantly agreed to Asami’s proposal to serve as his pilot, she'd promised to go pack a bag and be back within the hour. He’d been prepared to have to pare down her belongings, so was pleasantly surprised to see her pull up with nothing but a dark green pack. She’d changed as well, and now sported loose-fitting brown pants and a dark leather jacket over some kind of green knit top. Her black hair was bound up into a ponytail and she’d exchanged her heeled boots for hiking shoes. Even in the flat shoes she was tall, and though clearly younger than him she walked with a surety of movement that made her seem older than Korra and the others. A pair of olive green goggles perched on the top of her head. Iroh hadn’t wanted a traveling companion, but the thought crossed his mind that, if he must have one, he could do a lot worse than a pretty girl with common sense.

“This okay?” Asami asked. She looked down at her outfit, frowning slightly. Iroh realized that he must have been staring. 

“Yes, fine,” he said, shifting his gaze. “And no issues arranging for your leave?” 

“I do own the company, General.” Asami smiled. “It has its perks. Besides, I haven’t taken any time off in ages. To be honest, the staff are probably happy to have me off their backs for a few days.” She hoisted her pack and started walking towards the plane.

“And what did you tell Mako?” Iroh asked. He saw Asami tense. “It’s okay,” he went on, “I understand that you had to tell him something. But the less anyone knows about what I’m doing, the better, for his safety as well as mine. And what he does know, I ought to know as well.”

“I didn’t tell Mako anything,” Asami said. Her back was still to Iroh, silhouetted against the soft light from the open hangar. “He, um. Didn’t you know? He… and Korra… well, kind of...” He heard her let out a frustrated breath. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sorry,” Iroh said. He’d been deployed most of the year as the United Forces rebuilt the fleet they’d lost in the Equalist rebellion and hadn’t kept up on Republic City gossip. “Forgive my mistake.” 

“It’s fine,” Asami said flatly, and started walking. Iroh saw her shrug. “I told Korra that I’m planning to meet her down there, but taking one of Varrick’s ships in order to keep an eye on the Future Industries merchandise. After the theft of all those mecha tanks last month, no one will question that motive.” Iroh nodded. It was a good cover. His opinion of Asami Sato went up. 

_Mako and Korra,_ he thought as they approached the hangar, and shook his head. He knew neither one well, but had spent enough time with them to be skeptical of the match. _That’s like fire trying to love gasoline._


	4. ASAMI

The trip to the South Pole would take a little under two weeks by air if everything went well. Flying was faster than taking a ship as long as they were moving, but Asami could only fly for so many hours a day before she had to rest. They’d left Republic City at night to avoid being seen, but soon landed in a clearing well to the south and set up camp. 

Asami had camped with her father as a child, but it was obvious to her that Iroh had the advantage of outdoors training. She was still rummaging in her pack when he came back from the edge of the clearing holding an armful of wood. She’d zipped her light jacket up against the chill and was looking forward to a fire. As he set it down, she saw that he’d already unpacked a sleeping bag, some food, and a small mess kit. He’d also moved several stones into a rather misshapen circle. He noticed her looking and nudged one of the stones with one foot. For some reason, he’d also taken off his boots. “I always wanted to be an earthbender,” he said. He smiled, looking a tad embarrassed. “No such luck.”

She gestured to the pile of sticks as he placed them in the circle and smiled back. “I bet firebending is going to come in handy in a second.”

After a few more minutes Asami had made some semblance of her own camp, though her sleeping bag somehow looked a lot more rumpled than Iroh’s, and in the dark she hadn’t managed to get everything to fit back in her pack. By that time Iroh had a blazing fire and was heating some water in a tin. Asami brought over a ration pack. “Enough water for two by any chance?” she asked.

Iroh looked up from the fire and his eyes widened. “Military rations?” he asked. “Where did you get your hands on those?” 

“Panic room,” Asami said without thinking. 

“What?” Iroh asked. 

“Oh,” Asami started. It had just sort of slipped out. “Um, well, my house has a panic room. You know, a secure room where we—I—can go in an emergency. It has a ton of these in it.” 

“I am familiar with what a panic room is,” said Iroh. He was looking at her intently, his eyes dark gold in the firelight. “I’ve just never met anyone outside of royalty who had one. Spirits, why do you need a panic room?” 

Asami sighed. She didn’t want to talk about her family, or even think about them, but she’d walked right into this one. She was so used to everyone knowing all about her famous father and his tragic story that she’d forgotten that General Iroh wasn’t from Republic City. “When I was six,” she said at last, “there was a break-in. Attempted burglary. Interrupted burglary, really. My mother was killed. After that, well…” She trailed off and waved the ration. 

“I see,” said Iroh. “Your father. He built it after.” 

“Always the scientist,” said Asami. “He was determined to learn from his mistakes.” 

Iroh politely changed the subject, giving his opinion on the best and worst ration options as the packets boiled. After they’d eaten, he surprised her by pulling out a small box of tea bags. 

“Tea?” he asked. “I’m afraid I only have bags. Leaves are hard to keep on the road.”

“You brought tea?” 

Iroh shrugged. “It helps me sleep. I have some for mornings, too.” He didn’t seem to want to say more, so Asami nodded. “Give me your cup,” he said, and gestured to the tin mug she’d brought. He filled it with water, then his own, then cupped one in each palm. The water was soon simmering. “Here,” he said, handing her a steaming mug. “But be careful, the bottom is hot.” 

Asami stared at him. “You… you can just boil water in your hands?” Iroh shrugged. He looked, if anything, a little sheepish. 

“So?” he said. He held out the mug again. 

Asami took it and a proffered tea bag. “Then why did you make a fire?” she asked. “If you can heat food and water yourself, why go to the trouble?”

“You looked cold,” he said. Asami didn’t know what to say to that, so she took a sip of tea instead. 


	5. IROH

It was late morning when Iroh came to a difficult decision. He was simply going to have to wake her up. Seven years of daybreak drills in the United Forces meant he’d already been up for several hours. He’d done some exercises, gone for a run, eaten, packed up most of the campsite, and even refueled the plane the way Asami had shown him. They’d have to leave soon if they were going to keep on schedule, but it was becoming clear that Asami was not a morning person. 

He walked over to Asami’s sleeping bag. She’d burrowed deep in the bag against the chill, and all Iroh could see was a tousled pile of black hair. He walked in a slow circle, thinking. He was not looking forward to this part. He’d once been burned rather badly after trying to wake his little sister for her lessons, and the memory made him cautious. Although she wasn’t a bender, he knew Asami was stronger than she looked, and a capable fighter. Not to mention the owner of a rather unpleasant electric glove. 

He cleared his throat, hoping that would do the trick. Nothing happened. “Eh. Miss Sato,” he said, trying to keep his voice low. “Miss Sato? It’s time to wake up.” A small groan escaped from the bag. Hoping the danger of a surprise attack was over, he squatted down and tried again. “Miss Sato, we need to start moving.” He leaned over her, reached out hesitantly, and gently shook her. Asami let out another low sound and the bag moved a little. He was about to shake her again when two enormous green eyes appeared beneath the cloud of dark hair. And Iroh realized that he’d never seen Asami Sato without makeup before. 

He decided that he liked it. The lack of shadow made her dark eyelashes stand out, and there was a small spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. It didn’t make her more beautiful, exactly, but it made her seem somehow more genuine. Accessible, maybe—the difference, he thought, between seeing a gorgeous woman at a party and that same woman, hair undone, wearing one of your shirts and nothing else. The thought made him feel oddly warm. Her green eyes, he realized, were flecked with gold.

_ Careful, Iroh, _ he thought. Asami Sato was what, 18? 19? He was on his way to infiltrate a war zone, against orders, with what he had to admit was a barely serviceable plan. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. 

“I hate you,” Asami mumbled. Iroh grinned. 

“Lucky for me, a hate-filled woman can still fly a plane. Come on, get up. I made you tea.” 


	6. ASAMI

As they made their way south, the rolling hills of the Republic gave way to the level plains of the southern Earth Kingdom. That evening they made camp beside a thick stand of broad leafed trees on the banks of a flat, wide river. The nights were noticeably cooler here, and as the evening passed Asami was grateful for a steady supply of steaming tea.

When she awoke the next morning though, Iroh was gone. It was late again, about the time he’d woken her the day before, and she saw that his camp was mostly packed. He must not be far then.

Asami packed up her own things and settled in on a nearby rock to wait. It wasn’t long before she saw Iroh returning from the trees. He’d removed his shirt, and appeared to be sopping wet. His hair, a little longer than she’d first thought, hung in dripping clumps around his face. As he got closer, she saw he was carrying a bundle of clothes and what looked like a small shaving kit. _He must have gone in the river then,_ she thought.

He was nearly at camp before she realized that he hadn’t seen her yet over on her rock. Not wanting to startle a man who could shoot fire out of his fists, Asami opted for being obvious. “Good morning,” she called. 

Iroh jumped. So much for not surprising the firebender. But he seemed neither angry nor about to attack her. Instead, Asami was astonished to see that General Iroh was embarrassed.

“Ah!” he said, turning to face her, blushing to the roots of his hair. At the same time he reflexively clutched the clothes bundle to his chest in an almost protective gesture. “Miss Sato, I’m… I’m…” He raised one hand to push his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. He seemed lost for words.

“Clean?” she said helpfully, raising one eyebrow and grinning. Asami was tall for a woman, but Iroh had four inches on her at least and outweighed her by a considerable amount. To see him so startled by her struck Asami as distinctly hilarious.

“It’s just that, you usually sleep late,” he said quickly. His next words came out in a jumble. “So I ran quite a ways... um... didn’t think it would... ah, be good? You know, this was my last..." Asami couldn’t take it. She snorted once, then burst out laughing. Iroh stopped talking and turned, if possible, even redder. 

Asami, noticing he was truly uncomfortable, quickly recovered herself. “There’s nothing wrong with cleaning up after a workout,” she said. She slid down from the rock she’d been sitting on and walked over to him. “Especially while camping. I’m feeling kind of crusty myself.” She smiled. “How’s the water?”

“Cold,” said Iroh truthfully. He seemed to be regaining some composure. He stopped clutching his shirt to his chest and moved to put it on. As he did, he revealed the massive scar on his left bicep.

“Oh, Iroh!” Asami said, “Your arm!” 

“What?” He paused, shirt in hand, and looked down at her. Asami reached out and touched the scar, gently tracing it with her fingers. It was the size of a teacup and nearly as round, the healed skin a shiny surface a shade pinker than the surrounding area. 

“General Iroh, I thought you said that the arm injury from last year was nothing?” She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. His skin felt very warm to the touch, despite his dip in the icy river. Firebenders tended to run hot. He looked back at her, a strange, unreadable expression on his face. “This is hardly nothing. I’m surprised it healed as cleanly as it did.”

“It’s fine,” Iroh said quickly, and moved away from her hand. “Avatar Korra fixed the worst of it, and my grandfather knows a good healer. In the South Pole, actually. I think you may have met her once. Nice woman, and one of the few who will give my grandfather the hard time he so richly deserves.” Asami smiled at that. Master Katara had certainly seemed like a woman who could give it as good as she got, even to the former Firelord. It made sense that, with her and Avatar Aang’s friendship with Zuko, she would know Iroh as well, but Asami had never put the two together.

Iroh frowned slightly, as if thinking, and absently reached his own hand up to touch the scar. “Comparatively speaking,” he mused, “it really wasn’t so bad.” 

“Oh?” Asami raised an eyebrow. She thought the puckered scar looked awful. “What’s worse than losing all the skin on your arm?”

“This is the one that almost killed me,” he said, and lifted his scarred arm to reveal a small white mark just above the bottom of his ribcage. It was about two inches long, almost perfectly horizontal, and roughly the thickness of her little finger. “Sword cut,” he said. “Got infected. I heard I was completely out of it for almost a month. I got another from its pair, too.” He turned again, this time revealing a long, thin white scar on his right side. It ran diagonally for 10 or 11 inches from just under his armpit almost to his navel. “This one looks ugly, but it’s all surface stuff. Once we got to them, the waterbenders healed it in about a minute. The stab wound was worse by far. I’ve found that injuries are rarely about what you can see on the outside.” 

Asami looked back at the small scar again. He was right. It didn’t look like much at all. “Do you still have a spleen?” she asked, noting the placement.

Iroh chuckled. His embarrassment seemed to have faded in the face of a clinical examination, though to Asami his eyes still seemed wary. “Smart woman,” he said. “And yes. A very, very lucky spleen, too.” He turned more serious. “I’ve actually found knowing anatomy to be an advantage in a fight. It’s a little like the chi blockers in some ways. If you know where things are, you know how to hit. And if you have to take a hit yourself, moving a quarter inch one way or another could save your life.” He looked down at the healed gash. “It probably saved mine.”

Now that she was close, Asami started to see other scars as well. Nothing as bad as the burn or the sword cuts, but it was obvious that General Iroh had seen his share of combat. He noticed her looking and the blank, unreadable look returned to his face. His wet hair had fallen over his eyes again, and he absently pushed it back with one hand. To Asami the gesture made him seem younger somehow, and she found herself wondering just how old Iroh really was. Up close, without the United Forces uniform or any trappings of royalty, she thought he might only be a few years older than she was. And if that was true, to have so many scars already? He was either very brave or a lousy fighter, and she’d seen enough of him in action to doubt the latter. 

“So,” Asami said, changing the subject. “You run? I don’t know many benders that train distance.”

Iroh smiled, finally shrugging into his clean shirt. “Not often,” he admitted. “It’s one of the disadvantages of living on a battleship most of the year. But I enjoy it, so I do it when I’m able. I find the solitude relaxing.”

That made sense. The gym the Fire Ferrets used was always loud, filled with clangs and shouts and the sound of breaking rock. Mako and Korra seemed to like the energy, and Bolin wanted to have an audience whenever he could. She couldn’t really see a quiet, deliberate man like Iroh fitting in there.

She looked at General Iroh with new appreciation. She had been used to thinking of him, with his obvious Fire Nation looks, as a slightly stuffy, older version of Mako. She realized now that they were probably closer in age than she’d thought, but that the general carried himself in a way that made him seem more mature. Whereas Mako was always waffling between decisions, looking over his shoulder for approval while trying to play it cool, Iroh was much more straightforward. If he wanted to run, he ran, and the fact that it was unusual hadn’t seemed to factor into his decision. She had obviously loved Mako— _had, past tense?_ —but she realized that the last few days of relatively little drama had been a refreshing change of pace.

She was starting to notice physical differences between the men as well. For example, Mako and Iroh’s coloring, which had once seemed the same, was now quite distinct. Mako’s eyes were more copper to Iroh’s bronze, and Iroh’s hair was thicker and darker. Their builds were different, too. Mako was the classic good-looking athlete; broad, compact, and heavily muscled—as, come to think of it, were Bolin and Korra as well. Iroh, in turn, was taller and leaner. Though obviously very fit, he was all flat, hard muscle rather than bulk. It made sense that he ran. In fact, when Asami thought about it, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever thought he and Mako looked anything alike.

***

The next few days settled into an easy rhythm. Iroh would wake early, exercise, eat, and do most of the packing before, if necessary, waking Asami. She was ashamed to admit that it was almost always necessary. Asami would then fly them as far south as she could reasonably go before getting tired. Some days they stopped halfway to rest, but more often they pushed on through. Between Iroh’s detailed terrain maps and Asami’s sharp eye, they were always able to find a safe and secluded landing spot by nightfall. 

Evenings were taken up with any repairs (Asami), preparing dinner (Iroh), followed by a mix of route planning and small talk over tea. She caught Iroh up on what had happened in Republic City since Amon’s disappearance, shared her hopes and fears for Future Industries, and gave her honest assessment of Republic City’s recovery efforts. She found that, wherever possible, she avoided talking about her family, and was grateful that Iroh didn’t press her on this. He in turn told her more about his moms and siblings, the ups and downs of life in the Forces, his progress rebuilding the fleet, and some of the places he’d seen on his travels. She found that Iroh knew a surprising amount, even about places he hadn’t been, and he admitted to being somewhat bookish. He’d even brought a novel with him, despite his admonishment to her to travel light. She then shared with him her love of math and science, and how difficult it had been growing up to have male engineers take her seriously. He marveled at the pocket-sized portable electric light—one of her own recent inventions—that she’d brought for the trip, and after some prodding she talked about some of her other ideas for new Future Industries products. He himself had no knack for machinery, she saw that at once, but with patience, a few illustrations, and one memorable pantomime, she was surprised by his thoughtful feedback.

They also discovered a shared pain and excitement in having taken command at a young age. Iroh, she learned, had at 22 become the youngest man ever to serve as General of the United Forces. Like Asami herself when she became the new owner and president of Future Industries, Iroh had faced skepticism, paternalism, and open accusations of nepotism from competitors and colleagues alike. To her horror, she also learned that the loss of most of his fleet to the Equalists the year before had nearly resulted in his removal from command. Only eyewitness testimony as to his significant involvement in preventing her father’s air squadron from doing further damage had saved his position.

She noticed, however, that Iroh shared little of what he had planned for after he reached the South Pole. Together they pored over his maps to identify and rank suitable landing sites, but beyond that she found him evasive. She, in turn, was reluctant to talk much about the rest of Team Avatar. Mako’s decision to leave her for Korra, and their now ambiguous relationship following he and Korra’s breakup, had completely consumed her only a short time ago. But beside a roaring fire, under the bright southern stars, and in pleasant company, her other relationships seemed remote and unimportant.


	7. IROH

Iroh had just set their evening’s ration packets to boil over the fire when he heard Asami call to him. 

“Can I borrow you, General?”

They had stopped a little earlier than usual after Asami had claimed she heard a rattling noise somewhere inside the plane. It was still light out, and the setting sun cast long shadows across the field where they had decided to camp for the night. 

Iroh walked over and found Asami on her back in the soft grass underneath the plane. She had opened some kind of wide panel that led up into the belly of the aircraft, the door of which obscured her face and the upper half of her body. A large metal toolbox sat open a few feet away.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice slightly muffled, “it’s hard to get in and out of here and most of these things aren’t labeled. Can you hand me a hex wrench? Start with the 5/64” and I’ll see if it fits.” Iroh looked at the open box of tools. There were quite a lot of things that could fit the description of “wrench,” but he hadn’t the faintest idea what a hex wrench was. _If hexa means six…_ He looked for some kind of six-sided device and settled on a tool with a long metal handle and a cup at the end, the inside of which was machined away into a hexagonal cavity. He placed the handle in Asami’s outstretched hand and she pulled it inside. A moment later she peered out over the side of the panel.

“Really?” she said, eyebrows raised. Iroh shrugged and Asami made a dramatic sigh. “This is a socket wrench,” she said. “Hex wrenches are little, shaped like an L. The sizes are on the side.” Iroh nodded and dug back in the tool box, this time identifying a pack of small, bent bars fitting Asami’s description. He pulled out the one with “5/64” engraved on it and handed it over. 

“Thanks,” she said, and ducked behind the panel door again. He heard a few metallic clangs from inside the plane. As Asami reached for something, her shirt pulled up to reveal a strip of pale stomach that Iroh told himself was not remotely interesting. 

“Damn,” he heard her hiss, after a moment.

“Everything okay?” 

“Actually,” Asami said. She popped her head out of the hole again. “Would you mind coming down here? I could use you. Grab the—the small, flat yellow packet in the top right corner of the upper tray.” Apparently she no longer trusted that he knew the name of anything in the toolbox. Iroh nodded, found the packet, then dropped to his knees and crawled under the plane. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver, especially with Asami already there, but he managed to roll onto his back and shimmy over to the open panel. The inside was a dark tangle of wires and metal. It was amazing to him that Asami had any idea what she was looking at, let alone the ability to troubleshoot something in particular. 

“Okay,” she said. “I fixed that rattling noise, but we have another problem. There was a bad batch of thermoplastic a while ago, and some of it must have gone into this prototype. We never caught it because the unit didn’t get a lot of flight time, but with all the travel this week it’s cracking a bit. Here.” Asami clicked on her portable light and illuminated a small crack in the otherwise smooth surface of some kind of box. “Give me the patches,” she said. Iroh handed over the yellow packet and Asami tore it open. “These are technically for sealing holes in the tires, but they should work on the crack as well.” She looked at him. “I’ll need you to firebend it on.”

“What?”

“It’s not enough to simply stick it,” she said. “I need a stronger bond here. Normally I’d use a heat sealer, but…” She attempted a shrug in the small space. “Just do what you do with the teacups, only while holding the patch on.” 

Iroh took the patch as Asami scooted out of the way. He reached his arm up into the belly of the plane and, palm first, applied the little square to the crack. Then he concentrated, willing the fire into his hand but maintaining enough control so he wouldn’t burn it. This was probably a very bad place to start a fire. Iroh held his hand there, maintaining pressure for another few seconds, then moved away. The patch was neatly melted onto the box. 

“Perfect!” Asami said. Iroh turned his head and saw her face was only inches from his. “You really come in handy.” 

“Glad that I can finally pull my weight,” he said. Asami smiled. He was suddenly very aware of how close her body was in the confined space, stretched out next to him on the soft grass. There was a small smear of grease on one side of her nose. Iroh resisted the urge to wipe it off.

“If you’re feeling grateful, maybe it’s time to feed your hungry pilot. Food almost ready?” Iroh sat up fast, promptly hit his head on the underside of the plane, and swore. He’d completely forgotten that he’d left their dinner boiling on the fire. 

Asami propped herself up on one elbow, looking both concerned and amused. “You alright?”

“Fine,” he grimaced, holding one hand to his throbbing forehead. “And yes, the food should be ready any time.” Asami nodded, frowning slightly as Iroh scooted out from under the airplane. He jogged over the fire and removed the cooking tin; thankfully nothing had burnt, though it had been close. He heard the panel on the belly of the plane slam closed behind him. 

Asami plopped down heavily in the grass across the fire. “I’m starving,” she said. “What have you got for me?” Some of her hair had come loose from her ponytail, which was also flecked with grass. Iroh saw the grease spot was still on her nose. 

“It’s a special surprise,” he said, handing her a plate. “You’ll never guess.” Asami wrinkled her nose, but took the plate anyway. Iroh slowly massaged his forehead, troubled. A few days ago he’d thought he could certainly do worse for a pilot than a pretty girl with common sense. And when he’d asked to borrow a plane, he’d had no idea everything that went into its daily maintenance. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t think he would have made it even this far without Asami’s help, let alone all the way south. 

But in other ways, he wasn’t so sure now that bringing her had been the best idea. The issue was, upon further reflection, Asami Sato was far more than just pretty. Even with her hair full of grass and her nose smeared with grease he thought she was stunning. She was incredibly smart, too; and not just book smart either. In his experience, this was a particularly problematic combination for him. Thinking men and women were as uncommon in the Forces as they were in the Fire Nation royal palace, and sharing his evenings with someone like Asami had become a real pleasure in more ways than one. While there was nothing wrong with that, her presence was clearly becoming distracting. And _that_ could land him in far more trouble than burning dinner.

As they ate, Iroh tried to put it all out of his mind. Whatever he might think now, Asami was the pilot he had, and he was going to have to make that work for at least another week. Anything else he might have started to consider would simply have to wait.


	8. ASAMI

Asami tied the final knot and stepped back from the plane to admire her handiwork. Two cables now hung from the wing, tied together at the center to make a wide V. Suspended from the knot like some strange fruit was her tightly-rolled sleeping bag. She gave a little hum of approval, then started taking off her boots.

Iroh looked up from his book by the fire. He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?” he asked. Asami saw that her tiny portable light was tucked into the crook of his arm again—he claimed it was easier to read by than firelight and kept borrowing it. 

“Well, you do a lot in the mornings, and you know I’m not great then.” Asami felt herself flush. She was well and truly the world’s worst morning person, and was still guilty about the way that Iroh constantly had to wake her up. “And at any rate, you can exercise by yourself. But back home, I mostly take classes. Kickboxing, things like that.” 

Iroh said nothing, so she continued. “I got tired of being so lazy, so I rigged this up. It’s a punching bag.”

“There’s not enough weight,” Iroh said immediately.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to criticize. It’s a great idea. But your sleeping bag, it’s not heavy enough. There’s no resistance.” He looked at her and smiled a little. “I’ve done this a lot.”

Asami saw immediately that he was right. She’d had enough sense to stabilize the bag with the twin cables, but hadn’t factored in the weight at all. Her bag weighed less than 5lbs. It would be like punching air. Drat.

“Any ideas?” she asked. There were plenty of ways to make the bag heavier by adding rocks or some of her metal tools, but then it would be too hard to hit safely. She didn’t look forward to flying a plane all day with a broken finger.

“I’ll hold it,” said Iroh. He marked his place, clicked off the light, then stood and walked over until he was directly behind the bag. He gripped it with both hands and braced it against his chest. “Like this.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” Asami said. She felt bad for interrupting his reading, especially as he didn’t seem to be able to do it while flying. Iroh had never said anything, but she suspected he might get a little airsick. “I know you’re tired. I’m sure I can find something to weight it down with.”

“Tired?” Iroh said. “I sit in the back of your plane all day. It’s good to stand up a little. If anything, I’d have thought that you’d be the one who was tired.”

“My eyes, maybe,” she admitted. “But it’s a lot of sitting for me as well.”

“Then come on,” he said. “I’m already up. Unless,” he gave her the faintest smirk, “you’re intimidated?”

Asami wheeled and kicked him in the chest. Her bare foot landed squarely in the middle of the bag. Iroh let out a small “oof” and she felt a momentary twinge of guilt, but when she looked up, he was grinning.

“It’s alright,” he said, taking a deep breath and resetting his legs. “I can take your cheap shots, Miss Sato. What else have you got?”

***

Asami spun and kicked at the rolled-up sleeping bag. But instead of connecting with the plush fabric, this time she hit something harder. She looked up in surprise to see that Iroh had caught her bare foot in one hand. He was smiling. 

“I can take your cheap shots, Miss Sato,” he said, and stepped forward. As he did so, he ran his hand slowly up under her leg. His palm was incredibly warm. Iroh took slow steps, maintaining her balance, all the time sliding his hand higher and higher. Asami met his eyes in the flickering firelight and saw something there that she hadn’t seen before. Or had she? 

He was right in front of her now, balancing her on one leg, his hand hot beneath her thigh. She felt him slip his other arm around her back. “What else have you got?” he whispered, and kissed her. 

Asami’s eyes snapped open. It was the middle of the night. The fire had burned all the way down, and it was cold. She could barely see Iroh on the other side of the ring of stones, a silent lump inside his own sleeping bag. Her whole body tingled, and for the briefest second she wondered what it would be like to get up and go crawl in there with him. She blinked her eyes, suddenly mortified. What was  _ that _ all about? She had no indication that she and Iroh were any more than friends, and recent friends at that. Though he’d never mentioned anyone, Asami also seriously doubted that a smart, good-looking general and Prince of the Fire Nation was exactly hurting for company. Besides, she was seeing someone herself—kind of—right? Asami shivered, burrowed down deeper into her bag, and set about forgetting her dream.


	9. ASAMI

“I think today’s the day,” said Asami. “We can’t put off the fuel stop any longer.” To date, they had avoided contact with the Earth Kingdom’s many cities and towns, flying high and camping in remote areas in order to escape detection. Airplanes were not very common, even in urban centers, and in the more rural areas of the kingdom they would certainly attract notice. As one of the only producers of airplanes, it would be all too easy to trace a sighting back to Future Industries. That invited more awkward questions than Iroh thought acceptable. But Asami hadn’t found a way to store enough fuel for the trip on the light aircraft and still take off, especially with Iroh’s added weight. They had no choice—they had to refuel somewhere along the route.

They had gone over Iroh’s maps of the Earth Kingdom to try to identify the most likely places to stop. She’d laughed when he suggested going to a gas station; apparently, he had no idea that an airplane didn’t run on the same kind of fuel as a Satomobile. For someone who effectively lived on a big machine he was astonishingly ignorant, but when she’d teased him about it he’d only smiled and said that’s why he hired engineers.

What they were looking for turned out to be a combination of three factors: relative isolation and distance from the major transit corridors to Republic City and Ba Sing Se; a landing site that would screen them from the town but be close enough to walk from; and the presence of the kind heavy industry that would use a similar fuel weight as the plane. They had already identified a few candidates along their route that met these criteria. The closest one to them at the moment was called Fa Re.

Fa Re turned out to be a small collection of buildings nestled between a few dusty hills on the edge of a wide plain. It could only generously be called a town. As they approached, Asami saw that Fa Re was no more than a jumble of huts and crude structures, most of which appeared to be made of cast-off materials. Everything was arranged in a rough semi-circle around a large piece of machinery set into one of the hillsides. She could feel a low thrum from the machine that seemed to radiate up from the earth, indicating it was likely some kind of mining equipment.

They met no one on the walk up to the town. It was late afternoon, and hot. Asami kicked up little clouds of dust with each step. She looked over at Iroh and barely suppressed a giggle. His hair, normally combed neatly back, stuck up in a single row of flattened spikes liberally coated in axle grease. She herself sported a bright red “scarf” that was in truth a wide strip of fabric she’d, with some trepidation, torn from the edge of a parachute. The disguises had been her idea. It was a police trick that Mako had mentioned called “redirection.” As outsiders in Fa Re they would certainly be noticed, and the General of the United Forces was not a completely unknown public figure. But according to Mako, eyewitness accounts were notoriously unreliable because people can only focus on and commit to memory a few pieces of visual information at a time. So, if blending in wasn’t an option, with redirection you could shape how you stood out. If you could direct the eye towards something obvious or flashy, but false, people would be more likely to forget other features that could actually help with identification. Her hope was that if anyone came asking questions, she and Iroh could only reliably be described as a man with a mohawk and a woman in a red scarf.

They were nearly to the center of Fa Re and its humming machine before she saw the first resident. He was an older man, perhaps in his late 50s, and wore a faded green apron over dun-colored clothes. He was leaning outside the door of one of the ramshackle buildings, reading a paper. The sign above the door read, “The Last Drink.”

“Hi,” Asami said. The man looked up. He peered at her owlishly, his bright green eyes magnified by thin gold spectacles. He frowned a little.

“Hi, yourself,” he said slowly, folding the paper. He nodded his head, looking them both up and down. “Pardon me if I say that I don’t think you’re from around here. May I help you, Miss?”

“We’re looking for some kerosene,” she said. Iroh waggled one of the two large cans he was carrying for emphasis. He’d agreed to let her do the talking when it came to finding the right fuel. “You know if there’s any for sale in town?”

“Ayah,” he nodded. “Nearly everything in Fa Re runs on a generator, and that big old hunk takes a fair amount of juice as well.” He hooked one thumb towards the mining machine. “Go around the back of that and ask for Kita. She’ll fix you up.”

Asami refilled their kerosene without issue, although she winced a bit when Kita named her price. _Beggars can’t be choosers,_ she thought as they walked back the way they had come. They were passing The Last Drink again when she had a thought.

“You want a drink?” she asked Iroh.

“Huh?” he said. Asami nodded to the building, which she’d realized was what passed for a tavern in Fa Re. The man from earlier was nowhere in sight.

“A drink,” Asami said. “And some food. Food that _isn’t rations_.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “You’d eat there?” he asked.

“Sure. At this point I’d eat just about anywhere that was willing to serve me something that didn’t come boiled in a bag.”

Iroh studied her, then nodded. They made their way over to the door. “I suppose I had you pegged as someone with more refined tastes, given the choice,” he said, leaning over to open the door for her.

Asami got that a lot. People, especially men, assumed that because she was wealthy, she only liked to eat at expensive places. She did like expensive places, but the truth was that Asami simply loved food, and got just as much enjoyment out of an exquisitely crafted bite of fish roll as from a hot, dripping woolly-pig sandwich off a cart. It just happened that she could afford the former, whereas most couldn’t.

“I suppose I had you pegged as someone who knows how dangerous it is to make assumptions,” she shot back, and walked past General Iroh into The Last Drink.

***

The Last Drink tavern was certainly not a place for refined tastes. Upon entering, Asami saw that it was little more than a dark, barn-like building with a few tables and chairs against one side. A tattered green curtain on the far wall disguised the entrance to what might be a kitchen. To her right, a long board sat upon two overturned barrels to make what she supposed was the bar. Behind the board stood the green-eyed gentleman who had given them directions, paper in hand, his back to a few dusty shelves and bottles. 

“Ah,” he said as they came in. “Success?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Asami. She glanced around the empty room. “Er, do you serve food here?”

“Ayah, some,” said the gentleman. It turned out that “some” was limited to two different kinds of stew and a choice of light beer, dark beer, or something the color of brake fluid that he called “Queen’s Lightning.” They ordered, then sat at a table to wait.

Asami glanced around the tavern. None of the furniture matched; it had apparently been salvaged from a variety of sources, including at least one “couch” that was clearly the front seat of a truck. In the high corner opposite her, a fat brown spider perched in a cobweb the size of a dinner plate. Daylight shone through spaces between the thin boards that made up the wall of the building. She didn’t think The Last Drink would be very pleasant in the rain or cold, but she’d gotten the impression that Fa Re didn’t see much of either. 

“Do you play?” she heard Iroh say. She looked to him, and he nodded in the direction of an old Pai Sho board leaning against the wall just behind her. As dusty as the rest of Fa Re, it looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

“Only if you’ll make it interesting,” she said. “Loser buys the beer. Agree?”

Iroh smiled. “Do I have your word on that?” he asked, and started setting up the board. They’d agreed not to use names if possible. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of a lady.”

“Oh, stuff it,” laughed Asami. She had been her father’s main Pai Sho partner for more than a decade, and the game played to her strengths. She’d had more than one date end badly when she wiped the floor with a man who’d been trying to give her “tips.” But Iroh proved to be a far better opponent than she’d had in a long time. His strategy was unfamiliar to her; aggressive, but with odd sideways maneuvers which made her wonder if they taught the game differently in the Fire Nation. She herself favored a more long-term strategy that relied on setting up a complex set of moves which suddenly interconnected to snare her opponent.

The game was fiercely fought as Iroh sidestepped Asami’s traps, but eventually she gained the edge. She was four moves away from victory when the board tilted wildly, spilling their pieces to the floor. She managed to grab the edge before the entire board fell off the table, but it was too late. The game was ruined.

“I’m sorry,” she heard Iroh say as he knelt down to recover the pieces. “I hit it with my knee.”

“It’s alright,” said Asami glumly. She’d been so close. “It was an accident.”

Iroh returned to his seat, piled the pieces in the center, and asked, “Again?” She saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. And understood.

“You!” she said, grabbing a White Lotus and throwing it at his face. Iroh ducked and came up grinning, gold eyes bright with amusement. “You… you dirty rotten _cheater!_ ” She grabbed another piece. 

“I’m sorry!” he said. He held up both hands to shield his face. She put down the second piece with a scowl and he tentatively lowered his hands. “In my line of work, it’s an advantage to know when you’ve been defeated.” He gestured to the board. “If you’ll agree to play me again, I promise to lose gracefully. On my honor.” He tapped his heart. “But first, I believe that I owe you a drink.”

She reset the board while he went and paid. His comment intrigued her. He hadn’t upset the board because he thought the game was going poorly. He’d known with complete confidence that he’d lost. Which meant he’d not only seen four moves ahead as well, but that he’d understood enough of her strategy to know what it meant. Impressive.

In fact, Iroh won the next match; Asami the two after that. Their food arrived, and though it was simple, it was warm and most definitely not boiled in a bag. 

***

The shadows were long by the time they left Fa Re. Asami still hoped to make a few more miles that night, not wanting to camp so close to a settlement, but the unexpected break had eaten significantly into their traveling time. Yet Iroh, usually the one pressing them to keep on schedule, hadn’t seemed to mind the delay. He’d also insisted on carrying both of the full cans of kerosene. The cords on his neck stood out as they walked, but he shrugged off her attempts to help by saying that he’d paid for her services as a pilot, not a porter.

They were almost back to the aircraft when Iroh stopped short. Asami, who had been walking a step behind, almost ran into him.

“Wha—" she started.

“Shh!” said Iroh. Asami stopped talking. In front of her Iroh stood still, his head barely moving as he scanned the landscape in the fading light. Asami herself hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Now out of the low hills that surrounded Fa Re, the landscape was treeless and almost perfectly flat. If there’d been anyone approaching she could have seen them easily, but there was nothing but dirt in every direction.

Moving incredibly slowly, Iroh bent his knees and set down the kerosene, then straightened. As he rose, he moved his feet slightly apart and tensed, setting his stance in a way that she’d seen Mako and the other benders do before a fight. Nothing moved. 

Then suddenly a patch of air not 15 feet in front of them shimmered and churned into swirling darkness. It looked to Asami like a blot of spilled ink, only ten feet across and floating in midair. With every moment the darkness seemed to coalesce and become more dense. Its edges stretched and contracted, forming a trunk with rough limbs, finally settling into the shape of a huge dark beast. 

To Asami it most closely resembled a sky bison, but horribly wrong. It was enormous, perhaps five feet high at the shoulder and twice as long. It was lumpy and oddly flat, as if drawn by a child. Its huge, shaggy head was topped with four horns, and six legs sprouted from its broad body. It was almost completely black, the kind of black that is less a color than the complete absence of one. Its long fur was tipped in an electric purple that seemed to glow with its own inner light. Two yellow eyes, also rimmed in purple, stared unblinking from its wide face. After a moment Asami recognized it for what it must be—a dark spirit.

Iroh seemed to know what it was as well. He faced the creature and held out a hand, palm out. “Spirit,” he said, in a raised voice. “We have no quarrel with you. We are travelers here, and leaving besides. Let us pass in peace.” The spirit hovered in place, bouncing lightly despite the lack of wind. It made no sound. 

Then without warning, it rushed them. Asami felt a sudden pressure on her side and stumbled to her left, reeling. She lost her balance and landed hard in the dirt just in time to see the dark spirit hurtle into Iroh. Asami realized that, rather than defend himself, he must have used his half-second advantage to push her out of the way. He rolled under the beast, but used the momentum to right himself up on one knee. Then he turned and used his fire. 

Twin jets of flame erupted from Iroh’s outstretched fists. The bison spirit had turned for another charge and both blasts caught it broadside. For a moment the area around the impacts cleared, as if the creature was made of smoke, but then quickly filled in again with inky blackness. The spirit gave no indication at all that it had been hurt, but to Asami’s eyes it seemed to shrink slightly, as if it had used other parts of its mass to heal its wounds.

It completed its turn and rushed back towards Iroh. He dropped his knee and tried to roll to the side, but one spectral horn caught him in the calf and knocked him sprawling. The spirit charged past him, skidded to a halt in the air, then turned for another rush. Even if he was doing damage to the creature, they wouldn’t last long like this.

Asami had always tried to take her lack of bending in stride, but she had never felt more powerless. She cursed herself for leaving her glove back at camp, but they hadn’t wanted to draw attention to themselves in Fa Re and it had seemed a liability to carry the tech of a known terrorist organization. But now, out on the empty plain, she had nothing with her at all that would help in a fight. All she’d brought was a stupid fake scarf and…

Iroh released two more blasts of flame as he lay on his side in the dirt. The spirit beast charged again.

_And fire._

Asami scrambled to her feet, then ran to where the two cans of heavy fuel sat. The parachutes on Future Industries planes were all made from a new type of synthetic material that was ultra light and incredibly strong, but had the downside of also being especially flammable. She quickly unwound the red parachute cloth from her neck, unscrewed the cap of the closest can, and tipped it until the fuel had fully soaked the fabric. 

Iroh, meanwhile, had managed to right himself and was keeping up a relentless barrage as the bison spirit charged again and again. They both seemed to have forgotten Asami entirely. She’d have to get close to the spirit now, but with its attention fully on her companion and his constant return fire, there weren’t many options.

 _Well,_ she thought. _Nothing for it._

“Hey!” Asami yelled. The dark spirit skidded in the air, swirling up a cloud of dust, then turned to face her. Its strange yellow eyes seemed to fix on her, unblinking. 

“No!” shouted Iroh. 

“Trust me!” she called back. 

The spirit charged. It was incredibly fast, closing the distance to her in seconds. At the last possible moment Asami jumped aside, flinging the fuel-soaked cloth at its massive head. The dripping fabric stuck fast to its face. She landed heavily on her side and skidded away from the beast. It would have to be enough.

“Hit it!” she yelled. Without a word, Iroh sent two blasts of fire directly at the dark spirit’s face. The soaked parachute ignited in a gout of flame. The huge creature reared in what appeared to be silent pain. Balanced on its two hind legs it twisted and writhed, and for a moment its entire head disappeared in a cloud of inky blackness. As it re-formed, Asami noted that the creature itself seemed somewhat diminished. Its edges began to shimmer and blur, then its many legs widened and bent, blending back into its now swirling center. Then it was gone. 

Asami picked herself up and made her way over to where Iroh sat propped up in the dirt, one arm under him, breathing hard. His palms were badly grazed, and he must have taken at least one fall on his face, but thankfully he seemed mostly unharmed. She offered him a hand, careful to grab on to his wrist to avoid the injuries.

“Nice shot,” she said as he stood. His ridiculous mohawk had flopped to one side. His golden eyes met hers, then he shook his head.

“Outclassed again,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile. “I believe that’s the fourth time today.” 

“Let’s not make it five,” she said. “Come on.” 

They collected the gas cans and headed quickly in the direction of the plane. After a few minutes of walking, she said quietly, “How did you see that thing coming? I didn’t notice anything at all. But you knew.”

“I don’t really know,” Iroh said. He sounded puzzled. “Something felt off, I suppose. I can’t really describe it.” He shrugged, the gas can sloshing slightly. He’d insisted on carrying the heaviest one again, despite his hands. “I’ve always been good with things like that.” 

“Iroh,” she asked, curious, “are you a sensitive?” 

“I’ve never heard it called that, but if you mean what I think you mean, I don’t know. Perhaps. I’ve always had a knack for things like meditation, concentration, deep breathing. I don’t know if that brings me closer to the Spirit World, but it’s not impossible that it might.” He hesitated. “Sometimes I can see them.”

“You can?” 

“The little ones, yes. And not all the time. When I was a boy my parents thought I had imaginary friends.” He glanced at her. “I’ve learned not to talk about it.” 

“Why not?” she asked. Speaking with spirits was such a rare talent, she would have thought it would be incredibly valuable.

“How would you feel if your general started suddenly talking to, or about, things you couldn’t see?” Asami nodded slowly. He had a point.

“What do you think set this spirit off?” she said. “I’ve heard dark spirits are rare. I thought they were only in places where people had disturbed something of significance to the Spirit World. Why would one be here, of all places?”

“I don’t know for sure,” said Iroh darkly. “But I have an idea.”

“What?”

“That the situation in the South Pole might be a lot more complicated than I thought.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. It was by this time full dark, and in the unfamiliar territory Asami decided it was too risky to attempt a take-off. Instead, she retrieved her glove and the plane’s small medical kit and they set up their camp as close to the aircraft as possible.

“Now,” she said, after they had everything arranged. “Let me see those hands.” Iroh looked up and Asami waggled a small packet of antiseptic wipes that she’d retrieved from the medical kit. 

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Really. Just a few scratches.” 

“I bet that’s what you said about that stab wound, too,” said Asami. “How did that turn out?” Iroh flashed her a smile and nodded, then held out both his hands. She knelt next to him and ripped open the packet with her teeth before starting to gently clean the cuts. He jerked a little as the alcohol touched his skin, but otherwise didn’t complain. When she’d finished she moved to his face, dabbing at the scrape on his cheek, then pushing his hair aside to clean the more serious cut above his left eyebrow. Satisfied, she looked down to find Iroh staring at her intently. Asami realized a heartbeat later how close their faces were. She pulled back in a hurry, then busied herself re-packing the medical kit.

“Thank you,” Iroh said. He glanced around to the edges of the camp. “I think we should set a watch tonight. Get some rest. I’ll stay up.”

“Okay,” said Asami. She stifled a yawn. It had in truth been a long day. “Wake me up in a few hours and I’ll take over.”

But when Asami opened her eyes, it was morning.


	10. IROH

Iroh was finishing packing up camp a few days later when he had a realization: somehow, waking Asami had become his favorite part of the day. 

Over the time they’d traveled together he’d managed to make a little game of it. He’d never met anyone so averse to getting up, so he had slowly attempted different ways of going about it, trying to find the combination of factors that would wake her the fastest while keeping himself out of harm's way. It was a delicate balance: for example, he’d learned that lightly dripping water on her face woke her up quickly, but also got him punched in the big muscle of his thigh hard enough to make him swear. Effective, but not exactly desirable.

Today, he wanted to see what the smell of caffeinated tea would do. 

Iroh brewed the tea, then walked over to where Asami slept. She was burrowed deep in her bag as usual, her pale face just visible under a swirl of black hair. She lay on her side, making soft sounds as she breathed. Though he’d made no effort to be quiet in packing the campsite, it was obvious that she was still deeply asleep.

He squatted down next to her and placed the mug of tea about four inches from her nose. Then he leaned down and blew on it lightly. Asami inhaled and scrunched her nose, then made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a hum. Iroh smiled. This was promising. 

He blew lightly on the tea again. Asami sniffed when his breath touched her face. Her mouth curled into a faint smile, but her eyes remained closed. She made another little humming sound. 

Acting on impulse, Iroh gently used his thumb to brush the loose hair from her face. Her smile widened at the touch. Her skin felt smooth and cool under his fingers, and for a second he wondered what it might be like to run his thumb across her lips as well. 

“Hey,” he whispered. 

“Mmm,” Asami murmured, “later, Mako.” 

Iroh pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. He quickly stood and stalked back to the plane, tea forgotten. What had he been thinking? When, exactly, had Asami given him the impression that she wanted anything more from him than their business arrangement? Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t point to anything specific that indicated more than a polite friendship. Besides, she was clearly still in love with somebody else. After all, she’d never said that she’d stopped seeing Mako, only that it was complicated. He saw now that “complicated” meant more than he’d thought. At least he hadn’t embarrassed himself while she was conscious.

Spirits, he needed to get a grip. They would be in the South Pole in two days, and he didn’t have time for this. The only thing of Asami Sato’s that he ought to be thinking about touching was the passenger seat of her plane. And the faster it flew, the better.


	11. ASAMI

“Get up.” Asami felt a sharp pain in her side. 

“Ow,” she muttered. She opened her eyes, the bright daylight nearly blinding her. Iroh was standing over her, frowning and nudging her in the side with a stiff black boot. 

“Get up, Miss Sato,” he said again. “We’ve indulged you long enough today. I have to keep moving.” 

“ _Spirits,_ ow, ok, I’m up.” She yawned and sat up, rubbing at her side. “You didn’t have to kick me.” But Iroh was already walking towards the plane. She looked around and saw that he’d packed most of her things as well as his own. He’d somehow made everything fit neatly into her pack, too—she’d have to look at how he’d done that. The only thing left out was her mug, which sat beside her sleeping bag, filled with cold tea. She must have fallen asleep with it.

Asami stowed the mug, grabbed a granola bar, and stuffed her sleeping bag into the top of her pack. There was nothing left to do except get back in the air. She shrugged back into her leather jacket, hoisted the pack, and followed Iroh to the plane.

***

The day passed mostly in silence. It was difficult to have much conversation over the sound of the engine, but even so Iroh seemed unusually quiet. He was surly and out of sorts, and spent most of the day glaring at clouds like he wanted to fight them. It was night and day from the shy, thoughtful man she’d laughed with the night before. 

They stopped for the evening on a black sand beach at the edge of the Southern Ocean. The next day would take them over the sea to the pole. It was very cold here, and Asami was glad when Iroh got a fire going. But instead of staying to boil water, he started walking towards the thick evergreens that lined the top of the beach. “Where are you going?” Asami called after him. “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“Practice,” he called back, not slowing his pace. He disappeared into the edge of the trees, and was gone. 

Asami boiled her own ration pack and ate in silence. An hour passed, then two, and all the while Asami’s thoughts kept coming back to Iroh. What could be so important to practice that he’d miss dinner? What had made him so obviously upset today? What if something had happened to him in the woods? Her food was tasteless. There was no tea.

Finally, she couldn’t sit any longer. She removed the Equalist glove from her bag and her small mechanical light, then walked off in the direction Iroh had gone. 

She hadn’t gone far into the forest when she saw the unmistakable flicker of firelight through the trees ahead. It didn’t sound like a fight, but Asami switched her glove on and moved forward carefully. If there was trouble, she wanted to be prepared. After a short walk, she found herself at the edge of a clearing about 50 feet across. And in the center of that clearing, Iroh was firebending.

It was familiar, and yet like nothing Asami had ever seen. She’d watched a lot of pro-bending matches over the years, and she’d seen Mako train up close, so she was familiar with basic firebending forms. But pro-bending emphasized speed and power, training players to deliver the fastest, hardest punch before moving out of the way. Compared to that, what Iroh was doing could only be described as… art. 

In the middle of the clearing, Iroh moved through the firebending forms like the world’s slowest dancer. His jaw was set with determination, and his golden eyes were flat and hard. Each motion was controlled, deliberate, precise. Slow though it was, it was clear to Asami that whatever he was doing was extremely difficult. He’d removed his shirt and boots despite the cold, and sweat ran fast down his lean torso. His thick hair, usually swept back, hung wet against his face. 

When Iroh released, instead of a blast of flame, a tight rope of yellow-white fire shot from each successive hand and foot. Each was as thick as Asami’s forearm and almost perfectly straight; more like one of her father’s cutting lasers than any fire she’d ever seen. The fire was hot enough that she could feel it from where she stood, but so finely controlled that neither leaf nor blade was singed. The frigid air crackled against the dry heat. Asami watched from the trees, mesmerized. The exercises were almost hypnotic in nature, fluid, unceasing. It was the scariest and most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

After some unknown amount of time she realized that Iroh had stopped bending. At first she thought he’d seen her, but he made no sign of notice. Instead, he slowly dropped to his knees in the soft needles that carpeted the forest floor. He cupped his forehead in his hands, breathing hard, before pushing the hair roughly out of his eyes. He looked utterly spent. 

_We’ll see who kicks whom tomorrow morning,_ Asami thought, but her heart wasn’t in it. Truth be told, she was more than a little worried about him. To do… that… for _hours_. She prided herself on keeping in shape—with Iroh’s help she had mostly managed to keep up her evening kickboxing routine—but she couldn’t imagine the kind of energy it would take to do what he had done. She wasn’t sure what would drive someone to push themselves that hard. In some way it didn’t seem healthy.

Asami made her way back to camp as quickly and quietly as she could. Somehow she’d felt like she’d witnessed something private, and she didn’t want to be seen spying. When Iroh arrived a short time later, she pretended to be asleep.


	12. IROH

They were on the move earlier than usual the next morning. Iroh had woken up exhausted, but feeling much more like himself. He’d gone through his exercises anyway, then made the terrible decision to take a quick rinse in what turned out to be a nearly frozen ocean. Although he’d made sure to move far enough from camp as to be out of sight, it had taken every ounce of pride he had to keep wading once his feet touched the water. It was incredibly unpleasant. If their plane went down over the ocean, he thought darkly, they’d freeze before they’d drown. 

Knowing today they would arrive at the South Pole and meet up with the rest of Team Avatar, Asami had run a little ways down the beach to rinse off as well. Unlike Iroh, she’d opted for the kamikaze method, cannonballing off of a large rock that had created a deep pool in its shelter. Her shriek upon entering the water was so high that Iroh couldn’t help laughing. But the laughter stuck in his throat when he saw her race up the beach, water dripping down her bare legs, her eyes bright, pale cheeks in high color. 

He’d been determined to be distant with her, but after a few minutes he gave up. Asami was so obviously miserable, continuing to shiver even after changing into dry clothes, that he went over to where she was packing up her gear and set some nearby driftwood alight. She squatted down next to it, held out both shaking hands, and flashed him a grateful grin. She had a beautiful smile. 

This was, on balance, very bad. If he was going to get in, help the Southern Water Tribe, and get out without either Raiko knowing or being killed, he was going to need every bit of focus he could muster. Even worse, his intelligence was old, so besides the maps he had no idea what kind of situation he was walking into. It could get very dangerous, very fast, and a distraction at this point could be just enough to tip the scales against him. 

He’d tried everything he could think of to try to get his head back in the game. He’d spent most of yesterday in a terrible mood, unsure of exactly who or what he was angry at. To snap himself out of it he’d done fireforms until he could barely stand. This morning he’d pushed himself again, followed by what had to be the coldest shower the Earth Kingdom had to offer. He’d felt better after that, but no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the day ahead, his attention kept drifting.

Down the beach he heard Asami laugh.

_She. Is. With. Somebody. Else._

Yes, it was safe to say that in the focus department he was failing spectacularly.  
  


***

Asami touched the plane down on a long, lonely piece of floating ice about 15 miles off the coast of the South Pole. The sun was sinking low, but they still had some time until nightfall. The plan was to fly in after dark to avoid being seen, landing at one of three sites they had identified on his United Forces maps. Asami, looking restless, had taken a metal toolbox out from under her seat and was busying herself looking for anything on the aircraft in need of a mend. Iroh sat on his duffel bag a few feet away, arms hanging loosely over his knees, and watched Asami work. 

Asami had changed into what he thought of as her “fighting suit,” a dark ensemble with maroon piping made from synthetic materials that he remembered from their battle with the Equalists. Iroh had always thought attractive women went hand-in-hand with fancy dresses, but he was finding many new and interesting things to enjoy about a woman in pants. For example, the way they pulled tight as the she reached to check something on the rim of the cockpit. 

“General Iroh,” Asami said, stretching to turn a bolt head slightly. It had been a while since she had used his title.

“Hmm?” 

“I don’t want to push, but have you decided on a landing plan yet?” He’d shared bits and pieces of his plans with her over the time that they’d been traveling, but had been intentionally evasive about specifics. None of the landing sites were perfect, each being a trade-off between likelihood of being spotted and how long they would have to travel on foot in the freezing cold. He could always use fire to keep warm, but Asami would have a harder time. They’d talked about her dropping him and then landing at the airfield in the city, but that would raise too many questions about why one of the Avatar’s closest friends was arriving alone, by air, in the middle of the night, instead of on one of Varrick’s ships as planned.

“No.” He had to raise his voice slightly over the wind. The iceberg rocked gently. “I still think I’ll need a closer look first. If the capital still holds against the North we can chance Site One, but if not I think I’ll need to go further out.”

She gave him a curt nod, moving down to work on another area. “Can I ask you something else?” she said, her back to him. 

“Of course.”

“When I asked back in Republic City what would happen if President Raiko or anyone from the United Forces found out we were here, you didn’t really answer. It’s time to pick landing sites, and as your pilot I need to know the risks.” 

“For you,” Iroh said, “likely nothing. You’re a personal friend of the Avatar, traveling to visit her in her home. That’s hardly objectionable, and in any case neither you nor Avatar Korra were told not to intervene in the war.” He wasn’t worried about Asami. Even if she was caught doing something questionable, she was bright enough and well-connected enough to get through it.

She tightened another bolt and glanced quickly back at him. “And for you?” she asked.

He considered for a moment. He’d quite deliberately avoided mentioning this part—partly so that she would have plausible deniability, and partly because he tried not to think about it himself. It wasn’t a pretty picture. But she’d come this far with him, and that probably meant she had a right to know the stakes. 

He opted for honesty. “Best case scenario,” Iroh said, “I’d be court-martialed. President Raiko already said as much to Avatar Korra and I that day on my ship. That could mean demotion, administrative leave, even potentially dishonorable discharge from the United Forces.” Asami stopped tightening the bolt. “Worst case,” he continued, “I’d be executed.” 

There was a loud bang as Asami’s wrench slipped. She whirled to face him.

“ _EXECUTED?!_ ” Her eyes were wide in disbelief.

“Miss Sato, it’s—" Iroh started, but Asami stalked forward as if she hadn’t heard him, swinging the wrench wildly.

“What do you mean, you could be _executed?”_ she hissed. He held up both hands in a warding gesture. The wrench in her hand looked heavy. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me you could be _ex_ —"

 _“ASAMI.”_ She stopped at her name. He met her gaze steadily. “Asami,” he said. “It’s unlikely. But technically, I’m AWOL. I’m stationed in Republic City. I’m in charge of its defenses. The best I could arrange at short notice was designated leave, so being anywhere but Republic City right now is, in fact, abandoning my post.” He gave her a small shrug. “It wouldn’t be easy given either the facts or my record, but it’s conceivable that Raiko could pull enough strings to have me convicted as a deserter. And in the United Forces, deserters can be executed.”

“That’s horrible,” said Asami. She looked shocked, her face drawn. She walked over and sat down next to him, dropping the wrench beside her. She turned to face him. “It’s also so unlike Avatar Aang,” she said. “From what I know about him, he would never agree to a system that punished criminals with death. Why would the United Forces have a rule like that?”

“You know your history,” said Iroh. “And you’re right, Avatar Aang never supported the death penalty. I’m afraid it was actually my grandfather’s doing. From what I understand, it was one of the few things about which he and Aang ever seriously argued. But the United Forces are modeled on the Fire Nation army, and in that army desertion is punishable by death. Firelord Zuko insisted that the United Forces needed to keep their options open when it came to punishment if they were ever to be taken seriously.” He shook his head. “It would be the ultimate irony if the policy he fought for was used to kill his own grandson. But I’m not sure he was wrong in thinking that firm consequences were critical to establishing the Forces’ initial legitimacy.” 

“I still don’t like it, General,” said Asami. She stuck out her lower lip slightly and scowled. Still free of makeup, her lips were a light shade of pink against her pale skin. Iroh thought they looked very soft.

“Please, just Iroh,” he said, trying not to think about it. “If I’m to be hung as a deserter, you may as well drop the title.”

“You shouldn’t joke about it,” Asami said. “It’s a terrible thought.” 

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” At least she didn’t want him dead. That was something.

“You said President Raiko would have to pull strings though,” said Asami. “But he would never do that, would he? I don’t love the man, but I don’t think he’s as bad as all that. Besides, he needs you.”

“I’m not so sure,” Iroh said. “Raiko is a political creature, not to mention the first man elected to his position. He’s made some bad calls, but he’s not stupid by any means. My disregard of a direct order could completely undermine his authority. And having done so publicly, if I, as a member of a royal family, am then seen to be above the law, it could perhaps jeopardize the whole idea of the presidency. President Raiko understands this. Probably better than I do.” He looked at Asami and smiled ruefully. “Honestly, I bet you a golden dragon he’d jump at the chance to make an example of me. I might be more useful to him dead.”

Asami frowned. 

“Look, Asami,” Iroh said. He liked saying her name. _Asami._ “I thought hard about it, about all of this.” He waved his hand towards the South Pole. “I knew that there was a chance that I couldn’t fly your plane well enough to reach the Southern Water Tribe. I certainly wasn’t counting on you offering me your services. And I knew there was a chance that if I could, I’d be captured or maybe killed while trying to end the war. And I knew that if I wasn’t, and I made it back to Republic City, that it was possible, even likely, that my own people would turn on me.”

He stopped and ran his hand through his hair. He needed her to understand. That he wasn’t what Korra had said—a coward. “What I mean is, I’m not a very spontaneous person, Asami. I’m very, very deliberate. Despite what you may think, I didn’t just go haring off after the Avatar when Raiko shut down United Forces involvement in the war. Please believe me when I say that I calculated the risks, found them acceptable, and proceeded accordingly. Whatever happens, I consider it worth it.”

“I know,” Asami said softly, looking down at her feet. Iroh cocked his head, puzzled.

“I, er. I saw you bending last night,” she said. _Ah. That._ He grimaced. Nothing like having a brilliant, beautiful woman see you at your lowest point, blowing off steam half naked in the middle of the night like a madman.

“And?” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “but you’d been gone so long that I started to worry. After a couple of hours I went looking for you. And I saw what you were doing.” Asami looked up from the ground, her cheeks faintly pink, and gazed at him intently. “Iroh,” she said softly. “A man who can do what you did last night doesn’t make mistakes.” 

Iroh blinked, surprised. He certainly hadn’t expected that answer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally. “I’m making one right now. Come on. It’s time.”


	13. ASAMI

The plane bumped down on a deserted patch of ice at the foot of the frozen mountains that towered over the home of the Southern Water Tribe. They were about four miles southwest of the city. Asami could see lights glowing faintly on the horizon. This was Site Three.

It had become immediately obvious from the air that the city, and therefore their first-choice landing site, was taken. Even from high up, Asami could see the blazes of light interspersed with sections of almost complete darkness that indicated an active conflict. An area near the east rim was burning, though she didn’t understand how a war between two waterbending tribes had managed to set buildings on fire. The second site, just outside of town, was likewise compromised, having apparently been requisitioned as a parking lot for one side or another’s military vehicles. They had no choice but to land further out.

Site Three looked more like the kinds of areas in which they’d been camping. It was an open patch of ground, nearly treeless, with mountains rising to one side and an open plain on the other leading to the city. Landing on the ice had been tricky, especially in the wind, but Asami had managed it. Two weeks of rough landings had sharpened her skills.

She and Iroh tied down the plane as best they could and sorted their gear, leaving what they could in the aircraft for the hike ahead. Asami’s suit, a Future Industries special design, helped regulate her temperature, but even so it was very cold. Iroh, she noticed, wore only his dark jacket. Faint wisps of smoke curled from his hands; he must be firebending to keep himself warm.

They set off. Even with her suit and a lighter load it was tough going. The wind blew constantly, scraping some areas of the ground bare and piling others deep with snow. They took turns breaking trail through the snowy patches, trading off every 20 minutes or so. At first Iroh had tried to do it all, walking ahead and melting a path with bursts of flame, but after a while she could see that the constant bending was exhausting him. He finally relented when she pointed out that he’d be no use to anyone if he fell asleep as soon as they got to the city. She, in turn, was able to blast a path through with her Equalist glove, which was once again strapped to her arm.

As they walked in silence, Asami’s mind returned to the conversation they had before their final approach to the South Pole. She’d known that Iroh was breaking some serious rules in coming to the aid of the Southern Water Tribe—his cautious behavior had indicated as much—but she’d had no idea of the potential severity of the consequences. The fact that he could be _killed_ —not just in battle, but by the very people to whom he’d pledged his service—was so unfair as to be almost absurd. With that hanging over his head, no wonder he’d seemed so stressed and distracted the last two days.

She also realized that it had been some time since she’d stopped thinking of Iroh as the General of the United Forces. Out of uniform and away from Republic City, far from their jobs, obligations, and mutual acquaintances, he’d become just another person. Her former image of him, stiff and immaculate in his bright red coat, or blazing into battle as he chased down her father’s planes, had been replaced with that of a handsome young man in dark fatigues reading or boiling tea by a fire; a man whose hair was always falling in his eyes, and whose quiet laugh lit up his whole face. To think of that Iroh, _her_ Iroh, being dragged before a committee of faceless men to receive military justice? It didn’t seem real.

Their plan was simple. Assuming that Tonraq, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe and Korra’s father, was under some kind of surveillance, Iroh had decided to head to the last known location of Avatar Aang’s widow, Master Katara, in hopes of getting more information on both the location of Asami’s friends and where his help was most needed. Barring that, he and Asami would split up to canvas the city for more information or any sign of Team Avatar. Either way, it meant that she and Iroh would shortly be parting ways.

 _Be safe,_ thought Asami as she walked behind her friend. He was little more than a dark outline before her, silhouetted against the flames which he used to clear their path.

_Please, be safe._

***

They walked the final half mile under cover of darkness. At this range firebending would attract too much attention. Luckily, most of the ground this close to the city had already been cleared of snow. A heavy yellow moon had begun to rise over the frozen sea, lending them just enough light by which to see. 

Master Katara’s proved to be a squat, rounded house of medium size in a quiet neighborhood near the southern edge of the city. Like most buildings of the Southern Water Tribe it was made mostly of ice, with several square windows set with glass and a sloping gray roof. The front door at the end of a short walk was painted a bright, robin’s-egg blue. 

By prior agreement, Asami approached the door to knock; Iroh would stay out of sight until they could determine who, if anyone, was inside. She rapped sharply on the door, then waited. Steps sounded inside. After a moment, the door cracked open an inch to reveal a single large blue eye. The eye blinked in surprise.

“Miss Sato, is it?” said a voice like dry paper. “What on ice… of course… one moment.” The door closed and Asami heard a chain clatter. Then it opened wide to reveal Master Katara. 

She was a little under five feet tall, her back bent slightly with age. Her wide blue eyes, bright and intelligent, were set in a lined face the color of toffee. She was dressed in the usual blue and white garb of the Southern Water Tribe, though in a slightly more traditional style than Asami was used to seeing on Korra. Her long, bone-white hair fell in a braid down her back. Two beaded hair loops framed her wrinkled, smiling face. 

“Master Katara,” Asami said, “is anyone else here?”

The old woman raised an eyebrow. “No. Why?”

“Because I’ve brought someone to see you.”


	14. IROH

Katara’s house was nothing like the grand halls he’d grown up in, but Iroh had always liked it all the same. It was small, consisting only of a living room, kitchen, and several bedrooms, all decorated in dark woods and comfortable plush fabric. The kitchen, where she’d taken Iroh and Asami, consisted of an icebox, range, and a single sink set into a low counter. In the daytime, the large kitchen window provided a nice view of the Southern Mountains. The walls were mostly hung with family photos; the one closest to Iroh featured a much younger, rather pretty Katara alongside a beaming Avatar Aang and their three scowling teenage children. It was a nice house; the kind of house you could imagine growing old in. 

Iroh sat with Asami and Katara at the kitchen table, eating cookies and sipping at a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He’d wanted to set off immediately, but Katara was surprisingly insistent, and in the end he’d given in. Ultimately he was grateful that she’d pushed the warm food and drink on him. He hadn’t realized how tired and hungry he was after their trek into the city.

Iroh, with help from Asami, had given Katara the highlights of their trip, including his purpose for coming and initial plans to try and help end the war. Katara, in turn, told him and Asami what she could about the current situation in the South Pole. It was worse than he’d thought. In addition to launching a full-scale invasion by the Northern Water Tribe, their chief, Unalaq, had intentionally stirred up a large number of dark spirits and released them into the physical world. As Iroh had suspected, a larger disturbance was probably behind his and Asami’s own encounter with an angry spirit a week prior. Dark spirits now roamed the streets of the city, attacking any citizens who ventured from their homes. As if that wasn’t enough, Chief Tonraq and several other leaders of the Southern resistance were missing and presumed captured. Avatar Korra had disappeared as well, closely pursued by Unalaq’s two children, and hadn’t been seen since. The rest of Asami’s friends, along with Katara’s children Bumi, Kya, and Tenzin, were nearby regrouping. 

Meanwhile, they’d learned that Unalaq’s plans extended far beyond the forced unification of the water tribes. He’d tricked Korra into opening the spirit portal that lay in the mountains to the south of the city, and instead of using it to create balance in the Spirit World he planned to use it for some as-yet-discovered but likely unpleasant purpose.

To Iroh, the dark spirits were the immediate threat. Whatever Unalaq was up to, the spirits were the key, and stopping them would both help safeguard the civilian population and potentially derail his ultimate plans. According to Katara, Unalaq had set off in the direction of the Spirit Portal with a significant force. If so, that’s where Iroh intended to go as well. 

Asami, meanwhile, would join the rest of Team Avatar as they planned and waited for Korra’s return. It wasn’t lost on Iroh that she’d also be reunited with Mako, whatever that meant for the both of them. He told himself that he wished them well, and almost believed it. 

They parted at Katara’s door, pockets stuffed with what remained of the cookies. The old master herself would stay at home; she wanted to be in a known location in case anyone in the community needed healing. She wished Asami luck and encouraged her to bring back news of Korra as soon as something changed. To Iroh, she simply said, “And you, hotshot. Just make sure you don’t die. Your grandfather would never forgive me.” And with that, she went inside and closed the door. 

“That was… sweet?” Asami said. She smirked. “And practical. I’ll second it. Don’t die, Iroh. We’ve forbidden it.”

Iroh smiled, then stuck out a hand. This was it then. “You either,” he said. “It’s been an honor, Miss Sato. Asami.” Asami grinned, and they shook. “And thank you. I’d never have made it without you.”

“Then you’d best make it count,” she said.

Asami’s cheeks were already pink with cold. At some point she’d reapplied her makeup, and her lips were now the color of frozen berries. An image rose in Iroh’s mind, unbidden, of those lips pressed to someone else. He looked away.

“Alright, get going before you freeze,” he said. “I can’t follow you around making fire all night, now can I?”

Asami nodded, turned, and waved once. Then, she was gone.

***

The trip to the spirit portal didn’t take as long as he’d feared. Skirting the city at an angle, he’d struck off into the mountains after Unalaq. He didn’t have Asami with him to help break a trail, but Unalaq’s troops had left a wide swath of ground trampled nearly flat and the going was relatively easy. Two hours found him at the top of a wooded ridge, looking down at what had become the Northern Water Tribe’s auxiliary encampment.

Iroh absently munched a cookie while he studied the strange scene. The troops, as well as quite a bit of heavy machinery, were arranged in a rough grid before a small forest of dark pines. The soldiers had already pitched camp, and the valley below bristled with neat rows of tents. In the center of the forest a bright beam of pure white light, about as wide as a small house, streaked up into the sky. 

_That must be the spirit portal, then,_ he thought.

Iroh estimated there might be a hundred men guarding the portal, and half as many mecha tanks. Not great odds, but not impossible, either. He’d been in the Forces long enough to know how a well-planned surprise attack could overcome even a seemingly huge superiority of numbers. Besides, he didn’t have to defeat Unalaq’s entire army—he only had to spoil his plans, or give Asami, Avatar Korra, and the rest the opportunity to do so. Tides had turned on lesser things before.

The trick, he thought, would be to inflict the maximum amount of damage and chaos in the shortest amount of time. He wouldn’t have long, and there was no one to cover a retreat. Go in, go big, get out. 

He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he’d had any kind of bending besides fire. Fire was incredibly powerful, but at the end of the day it had limited uses. It could set things on fire, and… it could set things on fire. Burning was the beginning, middle, and end of the list. A waterbender would be able to push and pull tents and equipment, freeze and maybe shatter metal, cut wires, slick surfaces, and create whole new structures out of ice. If he could earthbend he’d be able to shape the battlefield itself, sink some of those mecha and maybe the command tent into the ground, and some airbenders could make _tornados,_ and— He sighed. Fire was what he had.

He couldn’t possibly go head-to-head with every man in the camp though. What he needed was a way to scale, to make his firebending impact a larger area all at once. It was like what Asami had done with the dark spirit back in Fa Re, when she had thrown the fuel-soaked cloth on its head. When it became clear that the spirit could heal in between his shots, she’d used the flammable fabric to allow him to do more damage all at once. 

Which, he thought, looking down at the encampment, was actually not a bad idea.

***

Iroh made his way down the ridge and walked into the camp. No one stopped him. He’d learned over the years that if you walked with confidence and acted like you knew where you were going, others would assume that you belonged. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little smug. He liked to think that trick wouldn’t work on his own forces. Unalaq was clearly more of a politician than a general, and his security was sloppy. 

Three rows of tents in, he slowed. No one was nearby. He crouched down, grabbed the corner of the closest tent in one hand, and quickly set it ablaze. Then he kept walking. 

Iroh headed straight for the mecha. In a battle of man versus machine he’d bet on the machine every time, so that was where he wanted to focus. He slowed his pace as he approached, studying the angles as he walked. The enormous armored suits stood in a long row behind the last of the tents. Roughly man-shaped, each suit was nearly 12 feet tall and made of interlocking plates of solid metal, the one exception being the glass faceplate in the center of each “head” that allowed the operator to see. Their hulls gleamed dully in the moonlight. 

Iroh slowed to a stroll. _Come on..._

“Fire!” The shout came from the other side of the camp. The burning tent had finally been noticed. A few heads emerged from the tents in front of Iroh as soldiers registered the alarm. Then, one by one, they rushed off in the direction of the fire. Good. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone if he could possibly help it. 

Iroh took three deep breaths, then took off sprinting towards the row of tents. He ran in a crouch, left hand extended to the side and slightly upwards. When he passed the first tent, he hit it with a powerful jet of fire. It exploded backwards, knocked clean off the ground by the force of the blast. He kept running all-out, and as he passed each successive tent he hit it with his fire as hard as he possibly could. The peaked canvases, blasted from a low angle, flew up and backwards as they burst into flame. Where they collided with the mecha tanks. 

His goal wasn’t to set the tanks on fire. Though he could probably melt metal if he really tried, it would take too much time and do too little damage. And there was no way a burning tent would make so much as a dent in one. But Iroh was very familiar with the kind of heavy, wax-coated canvas used in army tents, and as he looked back he saw that he’d judged correctly. Each mecha tank was now covered in a flaming mass of charring, melting canvas that would be almost impossible to clean off the faceplates. The suits, blinded, were effectively useless. 

Iroh had gotten roughly two thirds of the way down the row of tents before he heard his first pursuer. For a big man, he was fast. _This is why I train distance, Asami,_ he thought, and grinned fiercely. 

“There!” yelled a soldier behind him. “Stop him! He’s heading for the Chief!” This was news to Iroh. The big tent up ahead to his right must be Unalaq’s, then. This opened up entirely new possibilities. If Unalaq could be taken out, the whole civil war might be over tonight. It was risky, as the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe was likely heavily defended and a formidable bender in his own right, but Iroh decided that it was worth a shot. He’d come this far, after all, and he wouldn’t get another opportunity like this.

He stopped firing the tents and jagged right. He was just in time, too. A jet of water blasted the space where he’d been only a moment before. The pursuing soldiers were catching up, and at least one of them could waterbend. Iroh picked up his pace, using the last of his reserves in a headlong sprint towards the big tent. He readied his fire, regretting the need but preparing to blast his way through anything and anyone that stood between him and the man who could end the war. 

Iroh was 20 feet from the tent when his right leg exploded in pain. He reeled and went down, hard, and the world went black.


	15. ASAMI

Asami walked blindly, taking turns at random as she stalked through the dark city streets. A thin layer of snow crunched underneath her boots. It was still the middle of the night, and she met no one.

Ostensibly she was on her way back to Korra and the others, but Asami was in no hurry to get there. She’d volunteered to return to Katara’s to share the news of Korra’s return, but she’d left the old waterbender hours ago. Since then, she’d simply been walking. 

The events of the past few hours ran through her head on an endless circuit. The initial trip from Katara’s to the small warehouse that Team Avatar had made their rendezvous point. The mixed feelings of excitement and shame as she lied easily to her friends about her journey to the South Pole. Her blush at Mako’s eager embrace, oddly unfamiliar after two weeks apart. The joy and relief when Korra had arrived shortly after, whole and unharmed.

The shock as Korra flung her arms around Mako and kissed him. The crushing humiliation as he kissed her back. Asami’s face burned at the memory. 

Coming down from her thoughts she found that she’d turned into an empty, open square. In the center stood a statue of a man, perhaps ten feet tall, his feet astride a large stone plinth. The statue was surrounded by a ring of stone benches covered in patches of snow and ice. The entire area had an unused look that made Asami think it had been some time since the residents of the Southern Water Tribe had spent time idling outside. 

Asami made her way over to the closest bench, brushed off some snow, and sat, suddenly tired. The moon was now high in the sky, and its light cast deep shadows among the stone. The wind had picked up a little, and swirls of snow danced across the vacant square. She shivered.

It wasn’t that she was still in love with Mako. Thinking about it now, she wondered if she ever really had been. When they’d met, completely by chance, she’d been totally swept off her feet. Mako had been so different from the posh, insipid men who typically chased a good-looking, wealthy heiress like herself. Part of her was enthralled by his rags to riches—or at least, rags to famous pro-bender—story, excited to be dating someone with a bit of an edge. The other part of her enjoyed Mako the project, introducing him to the fine foods, clothes, and culture of Republic City’s high society. 

And, she had to face it, she’d liked the attention. Mako was handsome, a professional athlete, and very obviously attracted to her. His close friendship with the Avatar, whatever it had eventually become, had also pulled Asami into the limelight. When the Equalists first emerged as a serious threat, she’d been thrilled to be considered part of the tight-knit team tasked with taking them down. It was only after Korra was kidnapped that she understood Mako’s closeness to the Avatar might be more than mere friendship. Their breakup hadn’t been pretty, but after a few months the bitterness faded and she’d be pleased to discover that she could still consider both him and Korra friends.

Asami slumped forward and rested her chin on her hands. Thinking of those first, heady days with Mako had used to make her feel sad. Now, she was starting to see how superficial they had really been. Mako had wanted her, and in his way had been eager to please. Yet looking back, she was hard-pressed to think of anything he’d done for or with her that hadn’t been completely generic. Walks in the city, drives in her car, flowers from a stall, pro-bending matches, a few particularly memorable sessions in her pool while her father was away. But Mako had never asked her about her inventions, her future plans, or what she thought about world events. She’d picked all the restaurants. He’d never so much as made her a cup of tea without her asking for it first. She’d had fun, but now she couldn’t shake the feeling that she could have been anybody. 

Asami shivered again at the thought of hot tea. It was very cold now, and the heat of her walk had dissipated. Even in her suit she would have to get indoors soon. But she was in no hurry to return. What she wouldn’t give for a roaring fire, right here in the middle of the square. The thought made Asami a little sad. Iroh had never mentioned a return journey, presumably keeping his options open. There would be no more campfires for her.

The worst part wasn’t the realization that Mako and Korra made more sense together than he and Asami ever would. It was that she’d been completely and publicly humiliated. When Asami had discovered the theft of nearly all of Future Industries mecha tanks, Mako had been there to lean on. She’d seen all her hopes and dreams for rebuilding the company, for making a name for herself in her own right, crumble in the light of that devastating loss. Mako had been sympathetic, and in the wake of he and Korra’s split he'd also been available. He’d told her he believed in her. He’d looked at her with his brilliant, red-gold eyes, his face full of genuine concern, and she’d suddenly clung to the idea that someone, anyone, was in her corner. That was all it had taken. 

But Korra’s recent ordeal, a fight with a powerful dark spirit, had apparently made her forget all about the fact that Mako had ended things. And the look on Bolin’s face when his brother had kissed the Avatar had told her everything she needed to know about how secret she and Mako’s rekindled relationship had been. Asami had now been left twice by the same man, for the same woman, and though she was furious at Mako she was more furious with herself for having allowed it to happen in the first place.

Asami blinked away a few frustrated tears. What was she, some backup option for every man in her life? She’d felt like the center of her father’s universe after her mother had died, but in the end, Hiroshi Sato had been willing to sacrifice her for a pack of raving lunatics. When she thought about it, for years he’d also kept her far from the business side of Future Industries, despite her obvious interest. She was proud of what she’d done with the company since she took over, but with fresh eyes she saw that no one, not the investors nor the staff nor even her own father, had wanted that outcome.

Asami wiped at her eyes and looked up at the statue in the center of the plaza. She realized that she recognized the man. It was Councilman Sokka, brother of Master Katara and one of the original members of Team Avatar. His long, angular face was topped with the kind of traditional topknot that had gone out of fashion long before she was born. He looked tall and resolute, his blank eyes staring into the distance as if in challenge to some unseen threat.

Asami remembered that Sokka, too, had been the only non-bender on the original Team Avatar. She didn’t know as much about Councilman Sokka as she knew about Aang and his wife, and she found herself wondering if he’d ever felt jealous of the Avatar. Or if he’d ever been left for a powerful bender, for that matter. Asami had never felt treated differently by her bender friends, but it was true that even with her mecha augmentation there were some things she’d never be able to share with them. Even someone like Iroh, who only seemed to use his bending for menial tasks unless there was an immediate threat, was certainly expected to bring home a powerful firebender to join him in the Fire Nation one day. However well they had hit it off on their trip, someone like her would never belong in that world. In her darkest of thoughts, Asami sometimes wondered if the Equalists had had a point after all.

She shook her head and tried to focus. She knew that she was being selfish, and that the middle of a war was no time for sulking. Korra had also returned with chilling news about Chief Unalaq and his plans, and it seemed that time was short. Asami had been so thrown off by the abrupt end to her relationship with Mako that she was only starting to process what it all meant. According to Korra, Unalaq’s ultimate goal was to merge with an ancient dark spirit called Vaatu to form some kind of anti-Avatar. She seemed to think that if he managed to free Vaatu from its prison by the end of the next day, a time of some sort of cosmic alignment called harmonic convergence, it would set off a chain reaction that would plunge the world into 10,000 years of darkness and chaos. If Unalaq wasn’t stopped, and soon, the civil war would be the least of their worries.

Asami jerked her head up. She’d been so wrapped up in her own self-pity that she hadn’t put things together. Korra had said that Unalaq wasn’t only stirring up dark spirits; he was actually working _with_ them. Which meant that the spirits’ attacks for the most part weren’t random. They were an extension of his army. She and Iroh had barely survived the encounter with the dark spirit at Fa Re, and she suspected then they’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. What would it mean to have a deliberate, coordinated attack from a force of dozens, or even hundreds of the creatures?

Iroh had gone alone to the spirit portal after Unalaq. And Iroh didn’t know.

***

Asami returned to the building where Korra and the others were staying just before sunrise. It had taken her far longer than she’d wanted to find her way back after hours of wandering the streets at random, and at one point she’d had to backtrack significantly. She slipped as quietly as she could through the big gray doors that formed the side entrance; she didn’t think she’d been followed, but the team had agreed to try to not to advertise their location. As soon as the door clicked closed she heard a shout from inside.

“Asami!” yelled Mako, running to her. He stopped short just in front of her, as if he’d suddenly thought better of it. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly instead. “We were so worried. Where have you been?” To his credit Mako actually did look concerned, although Asami thought it would be a long time before she believed anything he said completely.

“Is everything alright?” called Tenzin as he jogged over to them. He looked scared. Completely bald and one of the tallest men she knew, the airbending master towered over Asami. He put one hand on her shoulder, almost shaking her. “Is my mother okay? Jinora?” Tenzin’s oldest daughter was under Katara’s care at a nearby healing center.

“No, no, everything is fine,” Asami said, reaching up to remove his hand. “I just got a little lost on the way back, that’s all.”

“Thank goodness,” sighed Tenzin. He put one hand on his bald head and gently massaged the large blue arrow tattooed on his scalp. “We had almost decided to go after you.”

Asami felt a twinge of guilt. She’d been so wrapped up in her own thoughts it seems like she’d forgotten about more than just Iroh’s danger. “I’m sorry if I made you worry. We can go now. I’m ready.”

“Go?” said Tenzin, puzzled. By this time the rest of the group had gathered as well: Korra, Mako’s brother Bolin, and Master Katara’s two other children Kya and Bumi. They clustered around Tenzin and Mako, their faces various mixes of confusion, concern, and exhaustion. It seemed like everyone had had a rough night.

“To the spirit portal,” Asami said. “To stop Unalaq.” She cursed herself for having taken as long as she had to return, but now that she was back they couldn’t spare another minute. But Tenzin shook his head.

“It’s okay, Asami, we weren’t leaving yet. Get some rest first. You look frozen.”

“No, it’s really fine.” She jogged over to where she’d left her things and began putting on her glove. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Asami, wait,” said Tenzin. “Harmonic convergence isn’t for another 12 hours or so. We know that Unalaq has moved the bulk of his army to protect his access to the spirit portal. We can’t just go rushing off now.” 

“We can’t just sit here, either!” she snapped. Her voice rang loudly in the mostly empty building. Why couldn’t they see that they had to go _now?_ Every second they stood around here stalling was a second that anyone who’d gone off in search of Unalaq would have no idea of the danger he was in.

Asami realized a half second later that the whole group was staring at her. Tenzin looked at her through knitted brows, his face a combination of worry and anger. Mako’s eyes were wide with shock. Korra gave her a bewildered stare. 

Bolin took a step towards her, his green eyes pained. “We’re not just sitting here, Asami,” he said earnestly. “I promise. Commander Bumi and me and Mako have been looking at the maps that Chief Tonraq gave us, and Korra thinks maybe if we make some kind of distraction a few of us can get past the army.” He held up a map as if to prove that they had, indeed, been working.

Inside, Asami was furious. Team Avatar’s planning was where Iroh’s had been days ago, and with far more resources at their disposal. Was “some kind of distraction” really the best they could come up with? But she knew now that she wasn’t going to convince anyone by acting like a crazy person. She needed some kind of argument, a reason to move faster.

“What if,” she said slowly, trying to appear reasonable, “what if someone were trying to stop Unalaq, but they didn’t know that he was working with the spirits? Or about Vaatu, and what could happen if it was freed? They’d have no idea what they were up against. If we wait here, they could be walking into a disaster, and it would be our fault for not helping.”

“Asami,” said Tenzin in a calm voice. He sounded like he was talking to one of his children. “The Water Tribe resistance are either with us or captured; at any rate, everyone who would pose a serious threat to Unalaq is accounted for. We were waiting for Korra before mounting any kind of offensive ourselves. No one is rushing off after Unalaq unawares, I promise.” He peered down at her, his gray eyes curious. “Unless there is anything that you’re not telling us?”

Asami swallowed. _Executed he said he could be executed._ “No,” she said. “I don’t know of anything in particular. I meant, maybe, what if some of the citizens decided to take matters into their own hands?” She looked pointedly at each of her companions. “I know most of us would try to defend Republic City ourselves, if we thought we had no other choice.”

“With the Avatar,” said Tenzin, “or with at least some kind of trained force. Not alone.”

Korra stepped forward. “Tenzin, maybe Asami is right,” she said, turning to the airbender. “I don’t know that anyone is crazy enough to try to go one-on-one with Unalaq, but we only have a few hours until harmonic convergence. We should go now and end this.”

“ _No,_ ” said Tenzin. “Look at you, both of you. Korra, you’re exhausted. You’ve barely been back a couple of hours, and Asami here just arrived as well. If we go after Unalaq now, we may as well hand him the victory.” He looked at the entire group. “Get some rest, and that’s final. That means all of you. Even if you can’t sleep, find a cot and close your eyes anyway. We’ll leave in a few hours, I promise.”

Korra opened her mouth to object, but Tenzin cut her off. “My bison, my rules, Avatar Korra. If you want to get there on Oogi instead of hiking six miles in the snow, you’ll do as I say.” Korra snapped her mouth shut and glared at Tenzin, then made her way to a nearby cot and sat down in a huff. Mako hesitated, then went and sat beside her. 

Asami closed her eyes, defeated. If even Korra had caved, the argument was well and truly over. She would just have to hope that whatever Iroh was up to, he would be okay for the next couple of hours or know enough to get out if he found himself in over his head. 

_Right, because backing off from a fight sounds just like him._ She groaned inwardly, remembering the hard pressure on her shoulder as Iroh had shoved her out of the way of the charging spirit, instead taking the full hit himself. He wasn’t reckless, but she knew he wouldn’t back down if he thought his actions could save others. 

All she could do now was wait. As powerless as it made her feel, she had to admit that she would be of little use alone. There was no way that she could go to the portal herself without at least some of Team Avatar. Besides, her plane was miles away, and even if she could get to it she knew it would be almost impossible to sneak up on the encampment with the sound of the engines. They would hear her coming from miles away. 

_Because planes are loud,_ she thought suddenly. _Planes are obvious._ And though her own aircraft was both far away and best kept a secret besides, unless she was mistaken, Asami wasn’t the only person in the South Pole with a biplane. Perhaps the idea of a distraction wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. 

“Bolin!” she called, “I have an idea. I’d like to take a look at that map of yours. Have you ever wanted to fly?”


	16. IROH

Iroh squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden light and tried to get his bearings. He knew he’d been grappled and half-walked, half carried a short distance from where he’d fallen, but he’d been blinded and the last few minutes were a little fuzzy. The first thing he noticed was that he was wet and very cold. The second was that nearly every part of him hurt. The third was that he was handcuffed to a pole. 

Iroh slowly opened his eyes and saw that he was on the inside of what he assumed to be one of the larger tents in the Northern Water Tribe encampment. It was arranged, tipi-style, around the central pole to which he was attached. He was kneeling, the pole at his back, his hands fastened behind him with what felt like metal cuffs. His arms ached and his right shin burned. 

Two men and a woman stood opposite him. The men wore the uniforms of the Northern Water Tribe and had the coffee skin and blue eyes typical of their people. The shorter of the two wore his auburn hair cropped close in front, with two long braids down his back like the tail of a swallow. He moved his hands slowly back and forth as he balanced a large bubble of water in mid-air. Iroh guessed he had been using the cold water hold him still; that would explain why he was wet. The woman, in turn, was small and thin, and was dressed in some kind of close-fitting gray armor. In her hand she held a sack of some dark, rough cloth that must have been over his head. Her skin was a light olive, and she had the distinctive green eyes of the Earth Kingdom. A metalbender? _That_ was interesting. Iroh hadn’t been aware that any mercenaries were involved in the war.

Standing between the waterbender and the metalbender, frowning down at him, was Chief Unalaq. Tall and spare, he wore his graying hair in three long braids and had a face like carved granite. His bright blue eyes were cold and hard. 

“Good,” said Unalaq. “You’re awake. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Unalaq nodded at the waterbender next to him. “Aunroch says you fell pretty hard when he tripped you.” Iroh said nothing. He’d been trained for just such an eventuality and knew that even the smallest thing he did or said could give away valuable information. 

“So, let us cut to the chase. There’s no point in lying. I know who you are and why you’re here.” Iroh’s heart sank. That was bad. If he’d been recognized, Unalaq could use him as a bargaining chip with Raiko, trading further cooperation for quietly avoiding an international diplomatic incident. If that happened, he didn’t think he’d even live long enough to see a court-martial. He’d simply disappear. Even worse, he could instead be offered in exchange to the Fire Nation, putting the Firelord in the impossible position of choosing between an alliance with Unalaq and the life of her youngest son. 

“Obviously, you’ve failed,” continued Unalaq. “I admire the Avatar’s confidence in her, er, _acquaintance_ , but the arrogance of sending her pet firebender to assassinate me is almost insulting. You’ll forgive me, but she should at least have hired a professional. For Spirits’ sake, not only did you burn 36 tents on your way in, violently alerting me to your presence, but you were _tripped_ on the way to my tent. There wasn’t even a fight. It’s embarrassing.”

 _Wait, what?_ Iroh couldn’t believe his ears. Pet firebender? Did Unalaq… think he was... _Mako?_ Mako, sent by Korra to somehow secretly assassinate him? Spirits, could Unalaq not tell firebenders apart? Iroh thought it was possible, especially if the Chief had had little contact with the Fire Nation and was expecting Korra to try something. He started thinking fast. If Unalaq thought he was with the Avatar, then he had a chance. From what Iroh understood, Unalaq still needed Korra’s cooperation in some way. He also didn’t seem to realize yet that firing the tents had been the primary objective. That might give him some options. 

“Ok,” he said. “You got me.” _What would Mako say?_ “But, er, you’re holding a Republic City police officer in custody! That won’t end well for you. Chief Beifong will hear of this.”

“Lin Beifong has no jurisdiction here,” said Unalaq. “Besides, if you can help me talk some sense into the Avatar, I promise no harm will come to you.” 

_Sure. Wait until you see your mecha tanks._

“I’ll go contact the Avatar now,” Unalaq said, “and then we’ll talk again. Aunroch.” He turned to the other man. “See that he stays put until I return. Chelin, stay with him.” Aunroch and the metalbender, evidently Chelin, both nodded. Unalaq left. 

Iroh weighed his options. It would be hard, if not impossible, to firebend with his arms behind his back. That was why they had restrained him that way. Chelin would make sure that he couldn’t get out of the cuffs. That didn’t leave much to work with. 

Yet one of the biggest weaknesses of most benders is that they started to think everything was about bending. He’d been guilty of that himself more than once. But two weeks on the road with Asami had reminded him of all the other ways to solve problems. So he didn’t have firebending. What did he have?

For one, his legs were free. If he wanted, he could move up and down the pole. His shin was agony, but he shifted his weight a little and it didn’t seem broken. Good. Also, as in most portable structures, the tent pole was relatively thin, only about a hand span across. He couldn’t break it, but it meant that his arms had some slack—a significant improvement over being tied to Bolin the last time this had happened. And if Unalaq didn’t know enough about firebenders to be able to tell one from another, chances were that at least Aunroch, and perhaps Chelin as well, were just as ignorant. Finally, benders were benders. Which meant that they would be both arrogant and predictable. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

“May I have some water?” he rasped. He did his best to sound miserable, which, in his current condition, wasn’t hard.

“We’re not untying you,” said Aunroch. Chelin narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

“Please,” whispered Iroh. “You can hold the cup, I don’t care. I used so much fire. I’m so dry.” In truth, firebenders didn’t need any more water than anyone else, but he was hoping Aunroch would buy it. 

He did. “Fine,” said Aunroch. “Then you quit whining.” He moved over to a low bureau and bent some of the water he’d been holding into a tumbler. Seeing that he couldn’t hold both the tumbler and his bubble of water, he opened the pouch that hung at his side and stowed it. Then he took the glass and walked back to where Iroh was tied. Under the guise of moving towards the cup, Iroh shifted back on his knees and curled his toes under. Then he winced. 

“Ow!” he said. “I’m sorry, it’s my leg, where you tripped me. Would you mind bringing it down here?” Aunroch grumbled, then squatted in front of Iroh and tipped the cup to his lips. He drank deeply. Then Iroh spit the water back into Aunroch’s face. 

It happened fast. Aunroch sputtered, reflexively trying to bend the water out of his eyes. At the same time, Iroh dropped his chin and bounced forward on the balls of his feet, slamming the top of his head into the distracted waterbender’s face as hard as he could. The pain was excruciating. He saw Aunroch stumble back, eyes unfocused, then fall to the floor. 

He heard, rather than saw, Chelin move. Her metal whip zipped towards him in a wide arc. He ducked, and the long chain’s momentum caused it to wrap several times around the thin central pole. Before she could free it, Iroh jumped to his feet, twisted, and threw all his weight at the whip. He outweighed the metalbender considerably. The taut line jerked, taking Chelin by surprise and yanking her towards him, off-balance. He kicked her as hard as he could in the chest with his good leg. Her eyes flew open and she made a wheezing noise, then slumped to the floor. The whole thing took less than ten seconds. 

Iroh stood, panting. He couldn’t believe that had worked. Now there was just the pole. One advantage of being in the United Forces, however, was that he was familiar with equipment from across all four nations. And, at the end of the day, a temporary tent was a temporary tent. Designed for portability and ease of use, they were kept standing mostly by balance. Iroh braced his legs, grimacing at the pain in his shin, and pushed his back against the pole, hard. It wobbled. He took a deep breath, reset his legs, then pushed again with all his might. The pole swayed, tipped, then fell, dragging the entire tent over with it. The pole jerked his arms painfully as it fell and Iroh was pulled over backwards, buried in the heavy canvass. 

He heard shouts. Even the sloppiest army wouldn’t miss their commander’s tent collapsing. As fast as he could he twisted and shimmied down the last few feet of the pole, which was now untethered from the ground. Then he kicked his way free of the canvas and, arms still behind his back, began to run.

***

Iroh limped up to Katara’s doorstep several hours later. It was nearly morning, and he couldn’t remember having ever been so tired in his life. He kicked the door softly once, twice, balancing on his good leg. A minute passed, then two. He was about to knock again when the door opened. Katara wore a thick blue robe over what looked like a white nightgown. One gnarled hand carried an old-style oil lantern, its single flame illuminating her lined face. 

“Spirits, Iroh!” she whispered. She looked him up and down, taking in his battered appearance. He was still wearing the handcuffs, having been unable to think of a way to remove them without help. “What happened to you?”

“I didn’t die,” he said. 

Katara grinned. “That’s my boy,” she said. She stepped aside. “Come on in. I made some more cookies.”


	17. ASAMI

Flying a sky bison was nothing like flying an airplane, and Asami knew which one she preferred. Oogi bobbed slightly up and down as they glided through the frigid air of the Southern Mountains. Although this was hardly her first time on one of the animals, Asami had never lost the feeling that one wrong move would send her tumbling off. She was perched on Oogi’s neck in the pilot position Tenzin used, reins in a white-knuckled grip, squeezing as tight as she dared with her knees. Why no one had thought to install seat belts—or any basic safety equipment as far as she could tell—was beyond her. 

Asami ventured a glance back. The Northern Water Tribe’s encampment stretched out far below, the light of the spirit portal a blazing spear up into the dark sky. Even from this height, it was obvious that the camp was a mess. Mecha tanks were strewn about like a child’s toys, and she could see tiny waterbenders running back and forth to douse the many smoldering tents. Asami felt a flush of pride at the thought that she had given a camp full of highly-trained benders such a thorough thrashing. It hadn’t all been her, of course, but the approach had been her idea and, at least on the destruction side, it had clearly worked. 

Asami’s plan had been simple in theory, if in reality quite dangerous. She would borrow a plane from Future Industries’ sometime-partner Varrick, who had come in by air himself the previous day (thankfully also allowing her to preserve the deception that Asami had arrived on his latest cargo ship). The bulk of Varrick’s supplies had been weapons of one sort or another to support the South, and among these she had found a number of the small remote-detonating explosives he had designed earlier that year. With these in hand she’d somehow convinced Bolin, and then finally Mako, that they could stand on the wings of her plane as she flew in low and slow towards the Northern Water Tribe encampment. The approach of a biplane would be loud and obvious, especially echoing through the mountains at night, and would hopefully draw the fire of any forces defending the spirit portal. If that weren’t enough, they would use a combination of the plane’s guns, Mako’s firebending, and Varrick’s explosives to make sure they got Unalaq’s attention.

Under the cover of this distraction, the other members of Team Avatar would fly in on Oogi and head straight to the spirit portal. Tenzin believed that if Korra could close the portal again, Unalaq’s plans would be shut down for good—it didn’t seem like he could reopen either portal without the Avatar’s help. If Asami, Mako, and Bolin could keep Unalaq and his troops distracted, it would give Korra the kind of time and access she needed to focus on closing the southern portal for good. In some ways, Asami thought, it was simply Mako’s concept of redirection on a larger scale. 

Behind her, Chief Tonraq groaned. All things considered, Asami thought that was probably a good thing. At this point, she would take all the good news that she could get. Considering how badly Korra’s father had been injured, if he was making noise that meant he was at least conscious. He had been lucid enough when they’d left the others, but Asami hadn’t been fooled. The chief needed medical attention, and quickly.

They had come in hard, with Asami, Mako, and Bolin attempting the distraction while Tenzin flew Oogi to the portal. At first, it had worked. She’d raked back and forth across the camp, focusing first on taking out the mecha that formed the bulk of their defenses. In truth, it was easier than she’d dared hope. When she’d flown in she’d noticed a large number of mecha tanks towards the back of the camp and a row of tents in front of them that appeared to have been burned. For whatever reason, these tanks hadn’t joined the fight. It was a good thing, too; she wasn’t sure that they would have gotten in at all if they’d had a few dozen more machines to handle. 

Their advantage hadn’t lasted for long, however. Although Asami and the two benders had been able to distract the soldiers well enough, the dark spirits at Unalaq’s command had apparently not been fooled. As Asami banked the plane for another assault she had seen them coming, boiling out of the forest surrounding the spirit portal in a black cloud. 

She knew now that they came in all shapes and sizes. While many resembled animals of a sort, similar to the bison spirit she and Iroh had seen, others were strange, angular shapes unlike anything found in nature. They had bodies of squares and triangles, their appendages nothing more than swirling, wiggling lines. There were hundreds of them.

Whether of their own initiative or at Unalaq’s direction, the spirits had ignored Asami and gone straight for Tenzin and the Avatar. While the spirits didn’t seem to be able to hurt Oogi while he was flying, it turned out that they could weigh him down. As they hit the giant sky bison they clung to his thick fur, then each other, their various limbs twisting and tangling as they dragged him down. In a detached way, Asami found it fascinating. The spirits could appear and disappear as they moved in and out of the spirit world at will, but once in the physical world it appeared that, although they could hover, they had mass and to follow the rules of physics like any other creature. 

More and more spirits piled on, pulling Oogi, Tenzin, Korra, Bumi, and Kya to the ground. At the same time, Unalaq’s two children, both powerful waterbenders, entered the fight. In an ironic echo of Iroh’s battle with her father’s air squadron, Unalaq’s twins managed to work together to force Asami’s plane into a crash landing. Though she, Mako, and Bolin had fought as hard as they could once they hit the ground, without the advantage of being in the air they were quickly captured.

The encampment receded behind her as Asami flew through the pass in the mountains that led back to the city. She glanced back, but it appeared that none of the spirits had followed her. They must be focused on protecting the portal. She added that to her list of good news. It was woefully short. 

She turned back to the bison and gave him a cautious pat with her closed fist. It turned out that, lack of safety precautions aside, Oogi wasn’t all that difficult to pilot. A light pull on the reins attached to his horns and he went higher; slacken them and he went lower. She was reminded forcibly of Iroh’s description of flying a plane. _There’s a stick in the middle, and you pull it one way for up and the other for down_. She took a deep breath. He was probably fine. 

She’d seen no sign of Iroh during their raid. The burned tents near the decommissioned mecha tanks could have been the work of a firebender, but Asami had no idea why Iroh would burn a few tents and nothing else. But it wasn’t like him to not be thorough, especially after he’d risked so much to come to the South Pole in the first place. She didn’t think he had been captured though. When Asami, Mako, and Bolin had joined Korra, Tenzin, and Kya as Unalaq’s prisoners, Chief Tonraq had been the only other captive. Perhaps Iroh had been interrupted somehow, and had gone somewhere else to regroup? Asami didn’t let herself think of the other possibility. Fear gnawed at her stomach.

Luckily for them, Tenzin’s brother Bumi had somehow avoided capture. He managed to free the group, including a badly injured Tonraq, and give them a few minutes to regroup. Asami, as both a pilot and a non-bender whose talents would be less useful in a rematch with Unalaq, had agreed to use Oogi to fly Tonraq back to Katara’s where she would be able to heal the worst of his injuries. Meanwhile, the rest of the team would attempt to gain the portal and seal it. Asami had been flying ever since. 

The lights of the city grew closer as she flew through the night. A sky bison was not exactly inconspicuous, but with the majority of the Northern Water Tribe’s forces engaged either at the portal or to the east of the city, she wasn’t worried about being spotted. Unalaq would be concerned with anyone moving towards the portal, not away from it. 

Asami had the bison land in the street outside Katara’s house. Almost as tall and wide a house himself, he barely fit. She looked back at Chief Tonraq in the saddle basket. His face was pale and drawn, and he’d pulled the thick woolen blanket covering him tight up under his chin. He was a big man, and heavily muscled. She didn’t know how well he could walk, but she’d never be able to carry him down off of Oogi’s back alone. Perhaps Katara would have some other method of moving him. 

Asami slid down Oogi’s side. It was a bit of a drop, and she landed in a crouch. Her boots crunched in the snow. Then she pelted up the narrow walkway and pounded on Katara’s door.


	18. IROH

For a moment Iroh was completely disoriented. He was in a very soft and unfamiliar bed in a small room with pale yellow walls and blue-and-white flowered curtains. A thick quilt, patterned with the same blue flowers as the curtains, was bunched up around him. _I’m being smothered in a fancy teacup,_ he thought distractedly, still half asleep. 

He shook his head and his surroundings slowly came back to him. He was in one of the spare bedrooms at Katara’s house. At her insistence he’d gone to get some rest and had almost immediately fallen deeply asleep. He thought he’d heard something banging, but if so it seemed to have stopped. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but based on how groggy he was it must have been a couple of hours at least.

Iroh sat up and almost regretted it. His whole body felt stiff and sore. Katara had been able to heal the worst of his injuries with her waterbending, including his shin and a nasty cut on his head from where he’d head-butted Aunroch, but his arms ached from the hours he’d had them cuffed behind his back. He looked down at himself and grimaced. His right arm and shoulder were a mass of black and purple bruises—they had probably taken his full weight when he fell. An angry red scrape from where he’d skidded in the dirt started on his hip and disappeared into his shorts. He’d had far worse, but it wasn’t pretty. 

Iroh’s head snapped up at the sound of a commotion in the hallway. At least two voices, talking fast. He dressed in a hurry and quietly opened the door. No one was in the hall. He stopped to listen and heard faint voices that now sounded like they were coming from outside the house. 

He crept down the hallway just in time to see the front door open. To his surprise Asami stumbled in, supporting a large man on one shoulder. After a moment Iroh recognized Chief Tonraq, whom he’d met a few times as a child and then once shortly after his promotion to general. Iroh rushed forward and put a shoulder—thankfully his unbruised one—under Tonraq’s other arm and began helping him into the house. 

“I’ve got him,” he said to Asami, taking Tonraq’s weight himself. He was very heavy. Asami flashed him a grateful smile and moved aside. Iroh half walked, half carried Tonraq back down the hall that he had come from to another one of the bedrooms. Katara herself had gone ahead and opened the door. She gestured to the bed, and Iroh lowered Tonraq onto the edge. He sat heavily and grunted, clearly in pain. Katara nodded to Iroh. “Thank you, dear. I’ll take it from here.” Iroh left the room and closed the door softly behind him. 

He’d barely gone two steps when something soft hurtled into him. Asami wrapped her arms around him in a swift hug. “Oh thank goodness,” she breathed. Iroh winced without thinking as she squeezed his arm.

“Oh! Sorry.” Asami dropped her arms and backed up, looking a tad embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to, it’s just that we didn’t see you at the spirit portal and I thought… I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m fine,” he said, cursing his own reactions. For the most part, the hug had felt nice.

She looked at him appraisingly. “You look terrible.” 

“You too,” he said, and smiled. In truth, she didn’t look terrible at all, but it was clear that she had seen at least some action. She had a long scratch on one cheek and had the wide-eyed, staring look of someone who had gone too long without sleep. 

To his surprise, Asami burst out laughing. “Look at us,” she said. “Some survivors.” A few black locks had fallen out of her ponytail, and she pushed them back out of her face.

“For now,” said Iroh. He gestured to the kitchen. “Go sit down. Give me a minute and I’ll make you some tea. I want to hear everything.”

***

Iroh looked in the mirror of the tiny bathroom and took stock. Asami was right. His hair stuck up at all angles from where he’d slept on it. The bruises on his arm were clearly visible before disappearing up under his sleeve. There was a small crust of blood under his hairline from where he’d cut his head on Aunroch’s teeth, and both his wrists were red and raw. He looked dirty and tired. 

_I wonder if pretty-boy Mako ever took a hit in a_ real _fight,_ he thought, and was instantly ashamed of himself. He had nothing against the man personally, and knew that Mako had done his share in the battle against Amon last year. Hell, the guy was a cop now, and probably put his life on the line on a regular basis. The fact that he seemed to be using Asami as some kind of side piece, or at least stringing her along, was none of Iroh’s business. Especially if all that he could offer as an alternative looked like something that had been dragged five miles behind a Satomobile. 

Iroh sighed, then washed up as best he could. He needed to find out what had happened to Asami and the rest of the group and then plan his next move. He had a sinking feeling that time was running out.


	19. ASAMI

Asami sat with Iroh and Katara at the kitchen table and sipped her tea. After running on adrenaline for hours, both during the assault on the spirit portal and after, it felt wonderful to simply sit and let someone else take charge. Iroh, seeming to sense her exhaustion, had started telling them about his raid on the Northern Water Tribe encampment—apparently, Katara hadn’t heard most of the story either. He gave them a brief summary of his plan to take out the mecha tanks and what had happened after. Asami felt a faint flush of pride when he mentioned that his plan to use the tents to blind the machines had been inspired by her use of the parachute material in Fa Re. And according to Katara, Unalaq had brought the entirety of his mecha tanks to guard the spirit portal, which meant that Iroh’s move had taken out more than two thirds of the army’s machines. That explained the large numbers of decommissioned mecha that Asami had seen from the air, and why they’d found the encampment relatively lightly defended. Iroh may not know it, but his actions had probably saved the lives of everyone who had gone on the second assault. 

Yet Asami, who had seen the camp first-hand as well as been captured herself, suspected that Iroh was making it all seem far easier than it had been. Even though she’d been only lightly restrained, she knew that Commander Bumi had gone to extraordinary lengths in order to free her and the others from being held as Unalaq’s prisoners. It seemed unlikely that Iroh had simply walked away, especially given his obvious injuries.

In truth, he looked rough. He insisted that he was fine, but it was hard to ignore the cuts and bruises that he still sported despite Katara’s healing, and he had the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. They were better than six miles from the spirit portal at this point, and Iroh hadn’t said anything about getting a ride in either direction. Even with a few hours rest, Asami thought it was an incredible testament to his physical strength that he was up and about at all. 

“And they have a metalbender, Katara,” he said as he finished his story. He looked at the old woman significantly, and her face darkened. “At least one. She… she might not be operational for a while, but where there’s one there could be others. I hope that the Avatar is ready for any surprises.”

Katara closed her eyes. “I was afraid it might come to this,” she said. “Aang was so excited to bring our peoples together, you know. He’d gained so much personally, with us, and with his friendship with your grandfather and with Toph, that he wanted to share that experience with everyone. I loved him dearly, but sometimes he could be so… innocent. The triads, benders as mercenaries…” She shook her head. “I honestly think it never occurred to him that we wouldn’t all just be friends.” 

“I think Aang’s vision has done a lot more good than harm,” said Iroh. He glanced at Asami. “And as for the rest, we’ll deal with it.”

“Korra is smart, and so are Tenzin, Bumi, and Kya,” said Asami. She tried to sound reassuring. “If there are any surprises, they’ll be ready.” Katara nodded, but she still looked troubled.

“Asami,” Iroh said, turning to her, his expression grave. “We need to know what happened to Avatar Korra and the others now. You said that you left them at the spirit portal. Please, tell me everything.”

Asami nodded. Then she filled Iroh and Katara in on everything that had happened since they’d parted, starting with Korra’s return with knowledge of Unalaq’s plans and ending with how the rest of Team Avatar had stayed behind at the spirit portal while Korra sealed it for good. She conveniently left out any mention of Mako and Korra’s reunion. There was no reason to humiliate herself further.

“They’ll have a long walk without Tenzin’s bison,” she finished. “I’m not sure Varrick’s plane will fly now, and even if it did they wouldn’t all fit in it. I was planning to go back for them as soon as Oogi had a chance to rest a little. With any luck Korra will have closed the portal soon, but that doesn’t mean Unalaq won’t give them trouble on their way out.” 

Katara nodded, then stood with a sigh. “Thank you, dear. That’s very kind of you.” She pushed in her chair. “I think it’s time to see to Tonraq again. You should rest. Both of you. There’s nothing you can do right now, and I have a feeling you’ll need your strength later.” She started off toward the hallway, but as she passed behind Iroh’s chair she reached one hand out and ruffled his hair, which he’d obviously tried to slick back in the bathroom. “You need a haircut, Iroh,” she said. He ducked and made a shooing motion with his hands, but Asami saw him smile. With that, Katara walked off towards the bedrooms. 

“So,” Iroh said slowly, doing his best to smooth down his hair, “you came up with the entire invasion plan, which you then effectively executed. After which you were the only member of the team who was sent back with the wounded?” He looked hard at Asami. 

“It’s okay,” she said, a little flustered. The decision had made perfect sense at the time. “It was all we could do to persuade Chief Tonraq to leave in the first place. Someone had to make sure he got to Katara before he changed his mind. As the only non-bender, it made sense for it to be me.”

“Commander Bumi isn’t a bender,” said Iroh. “And a lot of benders could learn a thing or two from you. I know I have.” 

“But if it came to another showdown with Unalaq or his children…” Asami trailed off, trying to put a lifetime of insecurities into words that a powerful firebender like Iroh would understand. 

“Sometimes I think that the most important thing a bender can learn is that _power isn’t everything,_ ” Iroh said, his voice serious. “It’s not even most things. In any real fight I’d rank it third, at best, behind both strategic ability and raw courage. Both of which you have in spades.” He met her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here, Asami. But honestly, if it were my command, you’re probably the last one I would have chosen to send back.” 

Asami didn’t know what to say to all this. Iroh could just be being kind, but it didn’t sound like it. She’d always been impressed with how he had spoken about non-benders. Unlike a lot of the people she knew from both her society and pro-bending fan circles, or even other members of Team Avatar, Iroh had never seemed to idolize bending ability.

“Thanks.” It was the best Asami could come up with at the moment. It meant a lot to her that someone like Iroh thought so highly of her, even if she wasn’t sure that she agreed with him. 

Iroh moved one of his hands towards her over the table, then stopped. He closed his eyes, letting out a little huff of what sounded like frustration, and stood. He gave her another hard look, then shook his head.

“Mako is an idiot,” he said, and walked away. She heard the front door open, then close again. 

_What?_ Asami had no idea what Mako had to do with anything. After all, it had been Korra’s idea for her to return with Tonraq, not his. She sat at the table, baffled, unsure of what exactly she had missed.

***

Katara returned from tending to Tonraq a few minutes later. “He’ll need a few more sessions,” she said amiably, “but I think he’ll be alright. That old bear is just too stubborn to die any time soon.” She chuckled and wiped her hands on her blue robe.

“Now,” she said, “about you.” Asami looked up from her tea. “I’m serious, Miss Sato. There’s nothing we can do right now to help Korra and the kids. There’s a spare room at the end of the hall, and you’re going to sleep in it. _No excuses,_ ” she said as Asami opened her mouth to object. “You can try to get yourself killed again later, I promise.” Asami put down her cup and nodded, then got up and walked down the hallway. Katara was right. She was exhausted. 

Asami opened the door to find a small, pale yellow bedroom decorated with blue and white flower patterns. It looked homey and inviting; quaint, yet genuine. She stripped off her tactical suit and climbed gratefully into the bed. It was wonderfully soft, especially after weeks of sleeping on the ground, and she immediately found herself growing drowsy. Her last thought before drifting off was that the bed smelled very nice. A little like a campfire, perhaps, and like something else comforting that she couldn’t quite place.


	20. IROH

Iroh didn’t have much experience with animals, but he had always found them interesting all the same. He reached out a hand and tentatively gave the sky bison a pat. The huge beast’s fur was thick and coarse, and reminded Iroh of nothing so much as a giant hairbrush. It was also deep; he was able to sink his hand in to the wrist before touching what he thought was flesh. Iroh wondered idly what Oogi would look like if someone shaved him, then smirked at the idea that the mostly bald men and women of the Air Nation had bonded with possibly the hairiest creature on earth. 

He stood in the street outside Katara’s house and turned over his options in his mind, hoping the night air would help clear his head. The obvious choice was to start making his way north as soon as Asami left to collect the rest of Team Avatar. He couldn’t ask her to fly him back to Republic City, not with the immediate danger over, although a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered that she might offer anyway. In reality though, he’d have to take one of the ships. His hope was that, out of uniform and with no one expecting him anywhere near the South Pole, if he was careful he could pass as just another passenger.

Another part of him was reluctant to let Asami fly back to the spirit portal alone. What if something went wrong along the way? Defeated or not, there was still a camp full of Northern Water Tribe soldiers, and Iroh also wasn’t at all sure how the dark spirits might react to the closing of the portal, either. There was no guarantee that they’d simply retreat back into the Spirit World, and they had already shown the ability to bring down a sky bison through coordinated activity. 

On the other hand, going with Asami on Oogi would mean revealing himself to the rest of the team, and that carried its own set of risks. He didn’t think any one of them would intentionally give him away, but in his experience people were careless a lot more often than they were malicious, and it would only take one slip to land him in quite a lot of trouble. 

The right thing to do, the rational thing, was to leave now. But if anything happened to Asami because he wasn’t there… 

“What should I do?” Iroh said, turning to the bison. 

Oogi made a soft grunt and leaned into his hand. Iroh made what passed for a scratching motion under the thick coat. He had no idea how the animal could feel him under all the fur, but it was clear that the bison enjoyed the attention. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’d give you a treat, but I’m not sure what you eat.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumbled remains of Katara’s cookies. “Want these?” he asked. He held out his hand, palm up, and offered them to the bison. 

Oogi turned his giant head to Iroh and tried to lick his palm. His tongue was the size of a small table, and his lick coated Iroh’s whole forearm in drool.

“Ugh!” Iroh said, pulling his arm back. He wiped it vigorously on Oogi’s fur. “That’s the last time I share with you,” he growled, but he was smiling. It felt nice to focus on something simple, even if only for a little bit. He turned to scratching the buffalo again. 

The ground shook slightly. At first, Iroh thought it was only Oogi shifting his weight, but his hand hadn’t moved. Then he felt it again, faint but clear. And again.

Iroh glanced up and froze. At first, he had absolutely no idea what he was looking at. A colossal shape, as tall as the Southern Mountains themselves, was walking through the pass that led to the spirit portal. It came slowly, shaking the ground with each enormous step. Like the dark spirits he’d seen before it was utterly black, but streaked with a glowing deep red that reminded Iroh of the lava flows of the Fire Nation. It was roughly man-shaped, but also like the spirits it was oddly flattened, as if somehow drawn in two dimensions. Long, tendril-like appendages sprouted from its face, shoulders, and sides like fiery whips. Two luminescent red eyes pierced the darkness.

There was only one thing that it could mean. The Avatar had failed. 


	21. IROH

“Katara! Did you—” Iroh rushed into the house to find the old waterbender standing at the kitchen window. It had a perfect view of the Southern Mountains. Through it, he could see the immense dark spirit slowly stalking off to the north.

“I see it, Iroh,” she said quietly. “UnaVaatu has come after all.”

“Una...? Oh.” It had taken him a second. Iroh’s mind was reeling. Although he’d told himself he’d been prepared for any outcome, in his heart he’d never really believed that Avatar Korra would fail. Thousands of years of darkness? Countless angry dark spirits unleashed upon the world? A part of him still refused to believe it, if for no other reason than some base survival instinct was screaming that it couldn’t be true.

‘Where is Asami?” he said sharply. She wasn’t at the table.

“Your miss Sato is getting some rest in Tenzin’s room at the end of the hall,” Katara said. “I suggest that you go wake her up.” At the mention of Tenzin, Iroh suddenly felt selfish. All three of Katara’s children had stayed behind to take on Unalaq. 

Katara pushed back the chair she’d been seated in and slowly stood. For the first time, she seemed tired. “I believe I have to see to Chief Tonraq again,” she said. “Go on. She needs to know.”

“Does she?” asked Iroh quietly.

“Yes,” said Katara. Her voice was firm. “You can’t protect everyone, Iroh. She has fought as hard as you have, and is just as much a part of this.” She gave him a hard look that was nothing like her usual kindly smile. “She has a _right_ to know. Don’t take that from her.” Then she made her way down the hall to the room where Tonraq was resting. He heard the door click closed. 

Iroh walked to the room at the end of the hall where he himself had slept not that long ago. He put one hand on the knob but didn’t turn it. Instead he listened, trying to hear any sounds from within. After a minute he realized he was stalling. Was there ever a good way to tell someone that the world was ending? 

He took his hand off the knob and knocked. “Asami,” he said through the door. “Asami, you need to wake up. I…” Iroh squeezed his eyes closed, biting his lower lip. He leaned forward and rested his head against the door. The wood was cool and smooth against his forehead. 

He let out a deep breath. “Asami,” he said, “I have something to tell you.”

***

“That’s it then,” Asami said. She stood next to Iroh at Katara’s kitchen window, looking out into the night. Near the top of the mountains he could see what looked like a gathering storm—a swirl of nearly solid darkness against the moonlit slopes. But he knew better.

The dark spirits were coming.

“That’s it,” he said quietly. He put a hand tentatively on Asami’s shoulder and squeezed. She was still wearing her fighting suit, and the dark synthetic material felt smooth under his fingers. She leaned into him slightly, her loose hair falling over his arm. He made no move to brush it away.

”Do you think there’s any hope for Korra and the others?” she murmured. 

“I don’t know,” he answered. Truthfully, he thought it very likely that they were dead. Avatar Korra wasn't the kind of person who stood aside when others were in danger. Other feelings aside, he didn’t think that Mako was, either, or Bolin. If UnaVaatu was free, he would have gone through Asami’s friends first. But saying that wouldn’t help. 

“Ten thousand years of darkness,” Asami whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

In the distance, the cloud of shadows seemed to be growing. He didn’t like admitting it, but Iroh thought the prospects for their area were grim. The largest concentration of dark spirits would be here near the portal, and the war would only fuel them further. Ten thousand years? He wasn’t sure they’d last the night. 

“I don’t think most of us at the South Pole will need to worry about that,” he said finally. 

“I know,” said Asami. Her voice was grim. She knew the odds as well and, ever the scientist, accepted the facts as they stood. It was one of the many things he liked about her. “This is about to be ground zero.”

“Yes.” 

“There isn’t anything we can do, is there, Iroh?” She said this with no inflection, her voice heavy with defeat. It was a statement, not a question. The fight was over. They had lost.

Asami turned from the window and looked up at him, green eyes wide, face pale. The gold flecks in her eyes shone in the filtered moonlight like a handful of fire sapphires scattered in the grass. Iroh thought that it was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. 

And suddenly he was kissing her. He didn’t remember a conscious decision to do it. It just happened, like the first breath after a long dive. Asami stiffened in surprise and he started to pull away. Then her mouth was on his again, hard. He leaned back in, hardly knowing what he was doing, just needing her. Her lips were cool and soft, just like he’d imagined. He wrapped his arms around her, the fabric of her uniform slick under his fingers. Asami shifted slightly in his grip, moving her hands to his back to pull herself against him. He stepped forward, trapping her with his hips against the low counter. The buttons of her jacket dug sharply into his chest. He moved one hand slowly up and into her thick hair, tangling it roughly around his fingers, pulling her close. She responded in kind, deepening the kiss, and he felt her tongue flick his lips. She tasted faintly of tea. He bit gently at her lower lip and she exhaled, making a small noise in his mouth. He shuddered. _Spirits_ he couldn’t remember having ever been kissed like this in his life. 

He felt himself growing hot and slowly pulled away. Asami was breathing hard, her eyes too bright. He thought that he should say something, but the connection between his brain and his mouth seemed to have been temporarily severed. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it.

“I— I wanted to know,” he said finally. His face tingled where her lips had been. “What it would be like. To do that. Before the end.” Asami said nothing, but made no attempt to move away. Her face was unreadable. 

“With you, that is. To do that with you,” he finished lamely. Curses, but he’d never been good at speeches.

“I—" Asami started, but cut off as the unmistakable click of a door opening sounded in the hallway.


	22. ASAMI

“I—" Asami heard a door open in the direction of the bedrooms, then close again quietly. She closed her mouth, feeling dazed. _Saved by the bell,_ she thought. She didn’t know exactly what she had been about to say, and was grateful for more time to think. 

Iroh dropped his hands and quickly took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, which Asami had noticed he seemed to do whenever he was stressed. A moment later, Master Katara appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. She carried a shallow wooden basin in both wizened hands. It was filled with water that Asami assumed she’d used in healing Tonraq. The water was faintly pink. 

Katara stopped and looked up at Iroh, then at Asami herself. Iroh flushed and shifted his weight, moving a few inches further from her. 

“Oh please, Iroh,” the old woman said, and shook her head. She started walking again, carrying her basin of healing water towards the sink. “You can move away from her all you want, but unless you’ve started wearing lipstick it isn’t going to save you. I may be old, but there’s nothing wrong with my eyes.” She placed the basin carefully in the sink, then turned to face them. “And even if there were, your face is so red now I bet even Toph Beifong could see you blush.” Asami thought she had a point. At the mention of the lipstick, Iroh’s face had gone completely scarlet. He rubbed at his lips with the back of one hand, then ran it through his hair again. It was starting to stick up from all the attention. Katara smiled, then turned around and began to wash. She bent the water back and forth over the sides of the bowl and slowly it cleared. 

“Honestly, Iroh, you’re as bad a liar as Zuko,” she said over her shoulder. “The fact that the both of you managed to carry out secret missions is beyond me. But then again, life is a mystery.”

Asami glanced at Iroh. He was so red now it was almost comical. He met her eyes briefly, swallowed hard, and looked at the floor. “Master Katara,” he said, a little hoarsely, and bowed slightly to the old woman’s back. Then he turned and left the kitchen in the direction Katara had come from.

“I’m glad your leg is feeling better!” Katara called, raising her voice slightly as Iroh disappeared down the hall. Although Asami couldn’t see her face, the smile in her voice was unmistakable. She faintly heard a door open and close again. 

“That boy,” Katara said, turning to Asami. She gave a low chuckle and shook her head. “I’ve known him all his life. It’s so easy to get under his skin, it’s almost not worth doing.” She started drying the basin with a faded blue cloth, and her smile dimmed. “He’s just so _serious_. Poor thing thinks everything he does has to be perfect or the world will break. Always been like that.” Katara turned to put the basin down on the counter and dried her hands. “The rest of the family, oof—" she made a chuffing noise. “Doofuses, the lot of them. Lovely, brilliant, loyal, and some of my dearest friends, but doofuses all the same. Him though.” She nodded her head in the direction Iroh had gone. “He might be called Iroh, but he’s the only one that took after Ozai.”

Now there was a thought. 

“How is Chief Tonraq?” Asami asked, suddenly remembering where Katara had come from. She’d been so caught off guard, first by Iroh’s kiss and then the old woman’s banter, that she hadn’t thought to ask after him yet. “Will he be alright?”

“He’s banged up a bit, but he’ll live,” Katara said. “I dare say I’ve seen worse. Troublemakers, my kids, the lot of them. I used to think healing was boring, but they always managed to keep me on my toes. I thank the spirits now that I bothered to learn it. And thank you for asking, Miss Sato. Tonraq would be a sight worse off if you hadn’t flown him here so soon.”

Evidently finished with the washing up, Katara walked to the small table in the corner. She pulled out one of the dark wooden chairs and eased into it slowly. Then she gestured to the one next to her. “Mind some advice from an old woman? I’ll have to give it sitting, though.”

“Of course not,” said Asami, and joined her at the table. She wasn’t sure where this was going, but she hadn’t gotten much in the way of motherly advice growing up. A part of her longed to fill that void however she could. 

“I’ve seen my share of end-of-the-world kisses,” said the old master. Asami felt herself blush. “It’s okay, child! It’s perfectly normal. I even had a few myself.” Katara smiled at her reassuringly. “Sometimes, they mean something. They can force out a feeling that’s been bubbling under the surface. Make you acknowledge it openly, maybe even act on it. Aang and I were like that, you know.” Asami nodded. That made sense. She knew that Katara and Avatar Aang had gotten together shortly after they defeated Firelord Ozai. “And sometimes,” Katara said, “they don’t mean anything at all. Just a stress response, if you will. An expression of one’s desire to feel alive, to cling to something unquestioningly vital, when death feels near.” 

Asami nodded again. She was still sorting out her feelings about Iroh, and the old woman’s words resonated. She was clearly attracted to him, in a physical sense. She’d always thought him handsome, and all the more so since getting to know him better. Kissing him had been electric, and her whole body had responded with obvious enthusiasm. And over their travels he’d also become what she now realized was a close friend. If Asami hadn’t exactly considered what it might be like for her and Iroh to be more than just friends, it was more that she hadn’t consciously put the two ideas together yet.

But in truth, she had no idea what the kiss meant for either of them. The way he had looked at her right before, the intensity of his gaze, was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She knew that she was pretty, and was used to men noticing her. But Iroh had looked at her like a starving man might look at a bison steak. Even thinking about it, remembering the fire in his bronze eyes, made her start to feel warm. Yet if there was ever a time for a stress response, it was now, and it’s not like Katara’s was brimming with young women to choose from. She could simply have been the only steak on offer. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Neither of those things is wrong,” Katara continued, pulling Asami out of her thoughts. “But sometimes, one person thinks it’s one thing, and the other thinks it’s another. And there’s where you get your problems. If it really is the end of the world, well, that’s no issue. But I spent 59 years married to the Avatar, dealing with world-ending crises right and left, and we stopped ‘em every time. And each time we did, suddenly all those end-of-the-world kisses wound up needing a reckoning folks hadn’t figured on. Sometimes it was good, but more often it wasn’t.” She chuckled. “So, best bet on the world and figure out which one it is, eh?” 

The old woman put her hand gently on Asami’s arm, her smile fading. “I know I don’t know you all that well, Miss Sato,” she said. “But I like you. You’ve got grit, which is more than I can say for most, and you care about doing right by others. You wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t. But like I said, I’ve known Iroh his whole life. He might not show it much, but inside he’s all fire.” Katara closed her eyes and gently shook her head. “He doesn’t do things by half, Miss Sato. Not ever. You’d best keep that in mind.”

She patted Asami’s arm again. “Ok. Enough of that now. You’re a big girl, you’ll figure it out.” Suddenly, Katara grinned. Her blue eyes were wide and excited. “So, about all this world-ending blabbity blah. You two weren’t just going to sit down and take it, were you?”


	23. IROH

Iroh sat on the narrow bed of Katara’s guest room, elbows resting on his knees, with his head in his hands. He was using the same breathing technique that he’d learned to calm his seasickness.  _ In for ten. Hold. Out for ten. Hold. Will the world to stop spinning. _

And again.

As he breathed, he tried to put his whirling thoughts in order. He had kissed Asami. Kissed, and then some. She had kissed him back. And then some. He had said something stupid. She had said…

Nothing. Asami had said nothing. 

On top of it all, the world’s most legendary waterbender, also an intimate family friend, knew all about it. She had probably spent the last ten minutes telling Asami embarrassing stories about him. Oh, and a cloud of dark spirits was rushing down the mountainside to kill them all.

Come to think of it, there was the bright spot. He might not have to face Asami or Katara at all. Perhaps he could stay right here, locked in this room, until it was time to die.

_ In for ten. Hold. Out for ten. Hold.  _

Slowly, Iroh could feel his pulse return to normal. His pulse, and other things.

The truth was that he’d never done anything remotely like that before. He was usually so in control of himself. He’d had his share of relationships, despite having moved around quite a bit, and although nothing had lasted he liked to think that he’d at least always been a gentleman about it. He’d never once just… jumped in like that. But with the light and the fear and the probable end of the world, in that moment kissing Asami had somehow changed from a highly desired activity to a complete necessity.

Even worse, Iroh had no idea how to judge Asami’s reaction. She had clearly kissed him back, and he had been the one to break away, not her. But the look on her face when they did so told a different story. Something in her eyes. Confusion? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been encouraging, and however that stung him the last thing Iroh wanted was to go where he wasn’t welcome. 

_ In for ten... _

“Iroh!” He heard Katara calling from the hall. It sounded urgent, but there was no way the spirits could be here already. He lifted his head.

“Iroh!” he heard again, closer. “Stop hiding in there and come help Miss Sato and I go kick some spirit butt. I know you can’t waterbend, but she tells me she still has a use for you.” 

_ What? _

Iroh got to his feet and opened the door. Katara stood at the end of the hall, belting two hide pouches Iroh knew contained her bending water into a pair of crisscrossed bandoliers. Behind her in the kitchen he could see Asami, hair bound up in a high ponytail, strapping on her electric Equalist glove. They were clearly prepping for a fight, but how could they possibly stand a chance against so many dark spirits? It had taken him and Asami everything they had to fend off only one, and they had only barely gotten away. 

“There you are,” said Katara. “Come on. Your Miss Sato here had an idea, and we’re going to go check it out. Also, I’m demoting you.” Iroh blinked. He was so confused. “Miss Sato is the general now. It’s her idea; she’s in charge. You listen to her. Got it, soldier?”

“Uh.”

“Good,” said Katara. “Let’s go.”


	24. IROH

Katara led them through the dark and silent streets to the outskirts of the city. It was nearly the same way that he and Asami had come in what felt like a million years ago. Iroh thought it was a testament to how badly the war was going that they had met not so much as a sentry on their way either in or out. Best case scenario, every able-bodied fighter was still engaged with the Northern troops to the east. At worst, when they’d seen UnaVaatu they’d simply fled.

Neither Asami nor Katara had said anything more of their plans to Iroh, and under the circumstances he wasn’t inclined to press the issue. Whatever they were going to attempt, his making noise on the way likely wasn’t going to help. Besides, he had a lot on his mind, and the quiet was welcome. At some point Asami had re-done her lipstick, and Iroh was practicing the very important task of not being embarrassed every time he thought about it. They walked in silence, the only sound the light scrape of their boots on the trampled snow. 

Soon the walls of the city loomed ahead. They weren’t high, perhaps 15 feet or so, and were made of thick, solid ice. The so-called South Entrance was in reality just a gap in the wall about 30 feet long that led to one of the city’s major thoroughfares. It was a testament to the past 70 years of relative peace that there was no gate, such defenses having long ago fallen into disuse. The two guard posts, one on either side and primarily used for customs purposes, sat dark and abandoned.

As they approached the entrance, Asami slowed. She appeared to be looking for something. She kept jogging off to the side and inspecting the bases of buildings. At the fifth building she turned and waved him over.

“There!” she whispered, pointing to a bundle of what looked to Iroh like thin gray pipes that ran for a dozen or so yards along the ground against a low wall. Asami walked over to the pipes and squatted, examining them. “Iroh,” she whispered, “you’re up.”

He walked over to where she was sitting. “What am I doing?” he said quietly.

“These are water pipes,” she said. She leaned forward and used the metal finger of her glove to scrape at the uppermost pipe. The gray coating flaked away to reveal bright silver metal. “Good, they’re aluminum. It’s common in piping because it doesn’t rust, but it also has a relatively low melting point.” She looked up at him. “I’ve seen what you can do. I didn’t bring any tools with me, so I need you to cut them.”

Iroh frowned. He’d always thought that he might be able to do something like this, given enough time and concentration, but he’d never actually tried. He knew it was possible though; Avatar Korra had practically burned a hole in his ship the last time they’d met, and someone had melted nearly the entire back wall of the Future Industries airplane hangar during the battle with the Equalists. As the only firebender that day chances were good that it had been him, but in the heat of battle the feat hadn’t registered.

“I’ll try,” he said. Asami nodded, then stood and trotted back to Katara, who seemed to be keeping a lookout in the street. Iroh knelt down next to the pipes and examined them. There were five, each about an inch thick, stacked one on top of another and bolted to the wall with small metal fasteners. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to clear his mind. It wasn’t easy, but he was grateful to have something concrete to focus on. A lot had happened in the last half hour, and he felt like he was only barely keeping up. He started taking deep, slow breaths to center himself. He pictured a small, bright blue flame, the hottest flame that he could imagine. He held the image in his mind until it filled him. Then he opened his eyes, moved his right hand in a fluid motion towards the pipes, and released. 

A six inch jet of blue flame erupted from the tips of his fingers. Iroh held it to the first pipe and got to work.

***

In the end, he was surprised at how easy it had been. Before long, and under Asami’s direction, Iroh had cut free and assembled a large grid of aluminum piping roughly 35 feet long and 12 feet high on the ground in front of the South Entrance. Water dribbled out of the cut pipes in a steady stream and pooled against the wall.

“What now?” he asked, wiping sweat from his brow. Even in the freezing temperatures, cutting the pipes had been warm work.

“Now, you get to be my spot welder. I can do some with the glove, but it’ll go faster with two if we’re careful.” Asami knelt in the snow next to one of the areas where two pipes overlapped. She opened a small panel in the back of her glove, adjusted something, and closed it again. Then she pulled her green tinted flying goggles from her pocket and put them on. “Watch,” she said to Iroh, “but close your eyes a little so you’re not looking directly at it. And both of you, stand clear. If either of you are touching the metal while I do this, it’ll probably kill you.” Iroh took two big steps back and saw Katara do the same.

“Good. Okay. Cross your fingers.” Iroh squinted as Asami grabbed the intersecting pipes in her gloved hand and squeezed. The area beneath the glove flashed with white light that left a burning afterimage behind his eyes. Wisps of smoke curled around the edges of her fingers. When she removed her glove, Iroh saw that the pipes had been neatly welded together. Asami looked up at Iroh, beaming.

“Honestly,” she said brightly, “this glove is wasted on disabling you benders.” She then had Iroh repeat the exercise on another intersection using his bending. He wasn’t as fast or as neat as Asami’s glove, but he found that with enough concentration and force he could also fuse the piping together. They then worked in tandem on the remaining joints, Asami calling an all-clear before her welds so that he knew to stop touching the metal. 

Before long they had assembled a passable gate. “Master Katara,” Asami said, “I’ll need your help to lift it. It’s way too heavy for Iroh and I.” The old woman nodded, planted her feet slightly apart, and closed her eyes. Then she lifted both hands, first up and then across her body in a swishing motion. At first, nothing happened. Then Iroh felt the ground shake as two enormous spikes of ice surged up from the compacted snow under the aluminum grid. They rose at an angle, the point of each jagged cone sticking fast in between the welded pipes. The ice groaned under the weight of the heavy piping, then slowly began to rise, hoisting the gate with it. Before long, the spears of ice had lifted the gate across the wide opening to the city. The ice retreated, leaving the makeshift gate propped across the entrance.

Iroh stared at Katara in amazement. The old waterbender probably weighed 90lbs soaking wet, yet she’d just lifted what had to be several hundred pounds of metal straight into the air with her bending. She wasn’t even breathing hard. It was a forceful reminder that Katara had been not just the wife of the Avatar, but a bending master and elite fighter in her own right, and that though she’d focused on healing in her later years she’d first honed her waterbending skills in combat. 

“There,” Katara said, rubbing her hands together. She looked to Asami. “Now what, General Sato?”

“Now,” Asami said, “we wait for the spirits.”

Iroh looked at the makeshift gate, then back towards the south. The moon was high in the sky, illuminating the dark landscape with pale silver light. The black cloud was well out of the mountains now. It moved swiftly across the flat plain of ice that led towards the city, a wide dark stain on a field of spotless white. He couldn’t see individual shapes yet, but it was close. At this rate he estimated they had 20 minutes, maybe less. 

Iroh studied the gate again, but he couldn’t see how it would help them much. It looked woefully thin. With a limited number of pipes, the holes between were more than four feet tall. It would be a squeeze for some of the bigger spirits that Asami had described, but many of them could probably just climb through. Iroh knew that even a simple barrier could slow down a sizeable force considerably, but without a way to effectively fight the spirits as they piled up it would only delay the inevitable. 

“Asami,” he said, “what are we doing here?” She had moved over to the grid, her back to him now, and appeared to be checking some of the joins. “I don’t think this will hold the spirits for long, if at all. And from what you said happened to Tenzin, it seems that at least some of them can fly. The gate may not even hold them for a little bit if they all go over the walls.”

“What’s _your_ idea then?” she said. She sounded suddenly angry. As Asami turned around he saw with dismay that she was close to tears.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, but she cut him off. 

“Do you want to die fighting, or would you rather just sit around and let them come?” she snapped. Iroh, who only a short time before had been planning on doing just that, said nothing. 

Instead, he closed the few steps between them and gathered her into his arms. He felt her stiffen, then slump against him as he hugged her tight. “Hey,” he said quietly, resting his cheek against her head. Her hair smelled faintly of campfire. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“All these people,” Asami whispered, her head against his chest. “They’re asleep, Iroh, they don’t even know. We can’t just do nothing.” Over Asami’s head, Katara gave him a meaningful look. Iroh ignored her.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re right. Even if we only buy them a few hours, it’s worth it.” He gave Asami a final squeeze, then released her. Whatever she had planned, it was something he’d be a part of. There were far worse ways to die. 

“Tell me what you need me to do.”


	25. ASAMI

Asami stepped away and turned back towards the gate. She blinked a few times, collecting herself and hoping fervently that no one had noticed how close she’d come to completely breaking down. She’d been so focused on the work as a way to avoid thinking about their situation that, when finally forced to slow down, it had caught up to her all at once. Then the way she’d felt as Iroh had pulled her close, solid and warm and  _ right, _ she’d almost lost it entirely. She was usually so clear-headed, it was a testament to how much strain they’d been under that her emotions were so close to the surface. 

“Okay,” Asami said. She suddenly felt cold and tired, her adrenaline gone. She tried to focus. “The key is, this isn’t just a gate. It’s an electric fence.” She turned back to her companions and held up her gloved hand, palm out, to display the electric node underneath. Iroh’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Aluminum is highly conductive. Anything that touches the metal while I’m gripping it with this glove will get more than 500 amps right through it.” She looked at Iroh and Katara’s blank faces and sighed. “For those non-engineers in the room, that’s a lot. It only takes about .2 amps to kill you.”

Iroh shuffled a bit farther from the gate, looking uncomfortable. Of course he would remember the rather effective fence that her father had put around the airplane hangar last year. She still felt bad about that.

“About them all just flying over the walls,” she continued. “Yes, there’s a chance, but I don’t think so. I’ve seen the dark spirits in action twice now, and whatever may be true in the Spirit World I think they have to follow the rules once they’re here.”

“Rules?” Iroh asked.

“Physics. Conservation of energy, gravity, things like that.” He nodded. 

“So, we know a few things,” Asami said. “First, we know that we can hurt them. Both force and fire damage them, at least, and they seem to have to convert some of their existing energy into healing. I think that, if they get hurt enough, they either decide or are forced to return to the Spirit World.”

“That could be,” said Katara, looking thoughtful. “In all of our dealings with angry spirits before, changing their state caused them to go back to the Spirit World. As you’ve seen with Unalaq, some waterbending can calm an angry spirit and cause it to transition back. So can solving whatever had made it agitated in the first place, as Aang did many times. It is not at all unlikely that a third way also exists that involves dispersing their energy, rather than emotions.” She looked at Asami. “Smart.”

“And it tracks with what we saw in Fa Re,” said Iroh. “When Asami burned the spirit too much all at once, it vanished.”

“When  _ we _ burned it,” Asami corrected. “Second, we also know that the city is the closest and most obvious target, especially if the dark spirits are working with Unalaq in some way, and that there are only so many ways in. There are walls in all but three locations, and this is the closest entrance. Compared to the East Entrance, it’s also undefended.”

Iroh’s eyebrows went up. “They went for the weakest target,” he said. “Before. The soldiers attacked the plane, but the spirits completely ignored you, Bolin, and Mako. They went straight for Oogi.”

“Exactly,” said Asami. “I don’t know how they knew, but they did.”

“Unalaq wasn’t much of a general, from what I could see,” said Iroh, a note of derision in his voice. “I walked right in and out of that camp on foot, and he misidentified me with complete confidence. If the dark spirits were getting lessons in target selection, I doubt it was from him. Which means that, even with Unalaq out of the picture, they’d be likely to make the same choice again.”

Asami nodded. “Finally, we do know that they can fly. But I don’t think they’ll just start flying over the walls.”

“Why not?” Iroh asked.

“Because, like everything else, I think flying costs them something. Energy. Some may go over the walls, but I think most will try to get through the easy way, at least at first. I’m almost sure of it.”

“Asami,” Iroh said. “Can you remind me why you didn’t join the United Forces?” Asami smiled. 

“Too many arrogant firebenders,” she said. Iroh grinned, taking her jibe as the joke it had been. Asami had to admit that, out loud, her plan sounded a little crazy. But it felt good to be doing something, anything, no matter how hopeless. “So, what we need is to get as many spirits as possible to touch the gate. I’ll have to stand here in order to keep it electrified. That means that the two of you are going to need to do some herding.”

“Got it,” said Iroh. He turned to Katara. “No offense, Katara, but I’m faster.” She shot him a withering look. Iroh swallowed. “Right. So. I’ll go out and get as close as I can, and will do what I can to direct as many dark spirits as possible here. Katara, you—” Iroh looked at Master Katara’s face again. “You… do whatever you think is best,” he finished, a faint color rising to his cheeks.

“Good,” Katara said. Without another word, she turned and started walking, finally taking up a position far on the opposite side of the gate and about 500 feet in front of the city wall. Iroh watched her go, then glanced at Asami.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly. “It’s not too late to go back. Maybe you could even fly out of here if you went the long way around.”

“Would you?” she asked. 

Iroh paused, then shook his head. “No.” Then he stood up a little straighter, seeming to come to some decision. He took a deep breath. “Asami,” he said, looking uncomfortable. 

Asami had been dreading this part. For the past two hours she had been trying as hard as she could not to think about what had happened between them and what it did—or didn’t—mean. But despite herself she  _ had _ been thinking, and she knew the truth. They were both under a tremendous amount of stress, and were mentally and physically exhausted. That kind of pressure could make a man do almost anything. 

_ I wanted to know what it would be like, _ Iroh had said. _ To do that. Before the end.  _ Looking back, he’d only added “with you” in after the fact. And the way he’d been so obviously embarrassed afterwards. Perhaps he was worried that Katara would tell his family, his  _ royal, rulers of the whole fricking Fire Nation _ family, that their successful general of a son was fooling around with some rich non-bender? Her jaw clenched. No matter how good it felt in the moment, she knew that the last thing she needed was to be another firebender’s secret fling. Assuming Iroh even wanted that much. 

But Katara was right; it was better to know where they stood than to let a misunderstanding make things worse. She wondered how things might have been different if she’d had the same conversation with Mako after she’d kissed him in her warehouse.

“About earlier,” Iroh said. “In the kitchen. I was… that was...” He seemed to be searching for the right word.

_ Just a stress response,  _ she thought. 

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “We’re all a little keyed up.” She forced a short laugh and nodded to the south. “End of the world, you know?”

“Right,” said Iroh. He let out a long breath, as if releasing some inner tension. That was good then. That was… clear. Easy. Spirits, she was overdue for easy. 

“Let’s just pretend it never happened,” she said. She hoped that could be true. Though things would certainly change when they got back to Republic City, the thought of losing Iroh as a friend scared her. Having lived all her life among the city’s high society, she knew everyone worth knowing, but in spite of that her real friends were small in number. Iroh, given his title and position, would be a welcome face in the kinds of crowded circles that to her so often felt empty. Assuming, of course, that any of them got home at all.

“Never happened,” Iroh said. He gave her a tight smile. Then to her surprise he snapped a crisp, perfect salute. “Good luck, General Sato,” he said. Asami laughed. It felt good. Maybe they really could be friends after all. Iroh nodded, then turned around and started jogging to the south.

“Iroh!” she called. He slowed and looked over his shoulder, but didn’t stop. “Remember our deal!”

“What deal?” 

“Don’t die!”

He smiled again, but even though he was moving away Asami saw it didn’t reach his eyes. He cupped on hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he called back. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Then he turned and started running towards the spirits.


	26. IROH

Iroh jogged towards the dark spirits, fists clenched. He didn’t look back. Instead, he focused on keeping a steady, even pace, timing his steps to counts of four. He was used to using physical activity as a way to calm his emotions, and every muscle in his body was screaming for him to run as fast as he possibly could until he dropped unconscious. He couldn’t give in to that urge; he needed to save his strength. 

_Let’s just pretend it never happened._ Asami’s voice, casual, almost joking. It wasn’t enough to tell him no. She’d erased him.

At least he wouldn’t be going into a fight, potentially his last fight, with half his brain thinking about how Asami had felt pressed up against Katara’s kitchen counter and wondering when he could do it again. Instead, frustrated, embarrassed, and surprisingly hurt, he could simply focus on burning the shit out of anything and everything he encountered. Tired though he was, Iroh found he had energy for that in spades.

In some ways, he was glad that he’d finally forced himself to talk to her. At least now their relationship was clear. If he was honest with himself, Asami’s answer wasn’t wholly unexpected, either. He’d known that she was still involved with Mako, or at least had feelings for him. He had thought, maybe, something in the way she’d looked at him once or twice, or the way she had hugged him in the hallway at Katara’s house... but apparently that was only wishful thinking. He had no idea what Mako had that he didn’t, but he knew enough to accept a clear defeat. Asami may have kissed him in the moment, he couldn’t deny that had happened, but she had said herself that they were both under a lot of stress. That could easily be reason enough, especially since he’d surprised her. Spirits, Iroh had surprised himself.

Besides, a dark part of his mind whispered, according to Unalaq all people from the Fire Nation looked roughly the same. Maybe, in a weak moment, to Asami he’d simply been close enough. He recoiled at the thought. Whatever her reasons, at least he could avoid making a further fool of himself. If he lived through the next 15 minutes, that was. Based on the number of dark spirits he saw as he approached, that was looking like a very big _if_.

Iroh was close enough now that he could see individual spirits. The variety was astonishing, and the spectacle helped to take his mind off his thoughts. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed Asami’s description of the spirit army, but it was another thing to see it for himself. He’d seen the occasional small spirit all his life, but in his experience those were generally rounded and colorful. By contrast, these spirits were black and twisted, their jagged edges and sharp lines glowing with poisonous colored light. Many of them seemed to resemble versions of fauna native to the South Pole: arctic hippo and camel, buffalo yak, and polar bear dogs similar to the one the Avatar rode. But there were also many animals he’d seen elsewhere on his travels, like platypus bear, camelephants, fox antelope, and even one of the Fire Nation’s rare komodo rhinos. 

Alongside the animal shapes floated things unlike any creature Iroh knew. Anywhere between six and 15 feet high, these enormous spirits were vaguely man-shaped, but with bodies made entirely of geometric shapes. Triangular or trapezoidal heads sprouted from rectangle bodies, and ropy, wiggling lines replaced arms and legs. As flat and pitch-black as the animal spirits, they were some of the most bizarre things he had ever seen. 

As he approached the dark spirits, Iroh started banking right. He could feel them now, a heavy presence in the back of his mind, a low, simmering sense of anger and disturbance that was not his own. It was exactly like what he’d felt in the seconds before the bison spirit had appeared in Fa Re, but amplified. He estimated there were several hundred of them altogether, traveling in a loose ball across the plain, but at a distance it wasn’t hard to flank them. Although they appeared to gallop and run, he saw that they never touched the ground, instead hovering about a foot in the air. As Asami had predicted, most of them seemed to be making straight for the south entrance to the city. All he had to do was spur them along and take down as many as he could in the process. 

He was up alongside the spirits by now. Iroh reversed direction, jogging backwards to keep abreast of them. As he did so, he saw a group of a dozen or so start to break off, heading in his direction. Either they’d noticed him, or they were heading for another point on the city walls. Regardless, it was what he had been waiting for. Iroh took a deep breath and focused. 

_Let’s just pretend it never happened._

“Forget _this,_ ” he growled, and unleashed his fire. 

***

Two white-hot balls of fire shot out of Iroh’s closed fists. They hit the lead spirit, some kind of bear, in the center of its shaggy chest. A nearly two-foot area of its torso simply dissolved, as if it was smoke blown by a stiff breeze. The spirit shuddered, but kept advancing, its chest re-forming as it came. To Iroh it looked slightly smaller. That was good; it meant Asami’s theory about its healing abilities was probably right. 

As it moved, he was astonished to see that the spirit behind it, one of the odd geometric ones, was re-growing what passed for one of its shoulders. Apparently, whatever the spirits were made of was insubstantial enough that he could damage multiple creatures with one blow. That, thought Iroh, could change the game entirely. Maybe he’d live through this after all.

Iroh lined up another shot, taking a few extra seconds to look for areas of overlap. This time, instead of a ball of fire he released a steady stream of flames from one outstretched hand. It hit the bear spirit in the face at nearly point-blank range. The creature stumbled as its head dissolved. Behind it, Iroh saw three more spirits stagger as parts of their bodies blew away like puffs of steam. One of them, a small deer of some kind that came up only to Iroh’s elbows, started to churn and swirl, then faded entirely. _One down, several hundred to go,_ he thought grimly, and then the bear spirit hit him in the chest. 

The immediate feeling wasn’t of pain, but of cold; the kind of deep, penetrating cold that makes muscles cramp and bones ache. For a brief moment Iroh couldn’t breathe at all, and he was reminded forcefully of his terrible swim in the Southern Ocean. The blow knocked him back as he gasped for air, but he’d seen it coming and managed to control the fall, if just barely. He leaned into the hit and landed on his back with a thump, elbows under him. He stuck out one foot. Fire erupted from the sole of his boot, taking the spirit’s hind leg off at the knee as it charged past. 

The fire inside him eased the pain in his chest a little. His bruised shoulder throbbed. Iroh sucked in two big breaths, then dived to his right to avoid the spectral claws of some kind of giant cat. He skidded on his side and the scrape on his hip flared in pain. This wasn’t going well. Even firing on a few spirits at a time, he was spending more time getting out of the way than hurting them. Meanwhile, the bulk of the dark spirits were simply passing him by. While his goal was to drive them to the gate, he didn’t like the idea of having Asami stand between several hundred spirits and their goal. He had to wipe out a lot more of these things, and fast, if she was going to stand a chance.

He only knew one other way to hit more than one spirit at a time. If he could lightning bend, he’d be able to arc across several targets at once, and with far more power than fire alone. It would tire him out quickly, but Iroh had the feeling this battle was more of a sprint than a marathon. It would be worth his burning out fast to gain the initial advantage, especially if it would give Asami a better shot later on.

Lightning bending was to firebenders what metalbending was to Earthbenders; Iroh estimated less than one in ten firebenders could do it at all, let alone master the technique. Iroh had learned from Fire Lord Zuko himself though, and had both the raw power and mental disposition for the task. He quickly stood and tried to clear his mind, to empty himself of all emotion. He focused on feeling nothing besides the energies inside him, the separation of the yin and yang that together formed the element of fire. He breathed in and felt the tension rise as those powers were stretched apart, poised to snap back together and through him in an arc of nearly pure energy. 

Iroh moved his arms in a circular motion, aiming at a knot of dark spirits less than ten feet away. As he released, Asami’s green eyes flashed across his vision, clouded with disappointment. Fire exploded from Iroh’s fingers in a ball nearly five feet wide. The force of the blast knocked him backwards, and he almost lost his balance. He staggered, then whirled to sidestep the charge of a dark, misshapen arctic camel, its nose and humps glowing with sickly orange light. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again to focus on the energy inside him, to feel nothing. He moved his arms to channel the lightning, aiming at the camel’s broad back. 

_It’s okay,_ Asami said _. We’re all a little keyed up._

A gout of flame even larger than the last burst from his hands, and this time he did go down. He rolled to avoid the legs of one of the geometric spirits and managed to use the momentum to at least wind up on his knees. 

Iroh was stunned. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. This... wasn’t good. Lightning bending required calm, balance, detachment. He’d always had an aptitude for those kinds of tasks, and had picked up the rare talent quickly under his grandfather’s instruction—far more quickly than the former Firelord had himself, apparently. He’d never had it fail. What was wrong with him? Was he so inadequate now that he couldn’t even—

A huge spirit, another of the tall man-shaped ones, kicked him from behind. Pain shot through his right leg, the one that Aunroch had struck, as he twisted. Iroh fell over on his face in the snow, his whole body paralyzed with deep, numbing cold. The dark spirit simply stepped over him as he watched, as if he were no more of an obstacle to it than a large rock. 

_Some hero,_ Iroh thought bitterly, as the spirit lurched eerily towards the gate, its three legs never touching the earth. Except... now that he looked, it wasn’t going towards the gate at all. Most of the dark spirits weren’t. Rather, it seemed that the bulk of the group had instead veered slightly to the west. 

Too late Iroh realized his mistake. They had been sure that the spirits would attack the weakest target. It had made perfect sense. They had been thinking of this in terms of entrances to the city, and until now it seemed like they had been correct. But they hadn’t factored in all of the information. 

At the spirit portal, Asami had assumed that the dark spirits had gone after Tenzin and the others because she’d presented the harder, more aggressive target. And now, she had been right again about them choosing the South Entrance to assault. But Iroh realized that it wasn’t for the reason they’d thought. 

The missing piece was Fa Re.

When they had battled the dark spirit in Fa Re, Iroh had pushed Asami, who had left her glove back at the camp, out of the way. After that the creature had all but ignored her until she’d called to it, despite his laying into it with a steady barrage of fire. Distracted by his emotions, Iroh had completely failed to see the implication. _Power isn’t everything_ , he’d told Asami, but that was only true if you could trump it with strategic ability. The spirits didn’t _have_ strategic ability, not really. In some ways, they were just like Chelin, Aunroch, and every other arrogant bender. With most of the Southern Water Tribe resistance out of action, and waterbending still a rare skill in the South, anyone left defending the East Entrance was probably a regular soldier. 

Given the choice, the dark spirit in Fa Re hadn’t focused on the weakest link at all. It had gone after the most powerful bender. 

They all had.

_Katara._


	27. ASAMI

Iroh went down again and Asami started forward. That was it. She couldn’t just stand here and watch this. He was trying progressively bigger and bigger blasts of fire, but it seemed like he had gotten in over his head. She saw him roll to one side, then scramble to his feet again. Asami stopped, glancing back at the gate. _No._ She had to stay here. Without her to run current through the pipes, they had no plan at all. 

When she turned back again, Iroh was down on his knees. She saw one of the taller spirits, the ones shaped like flat stacks of blocks, advancing almost directly behind him. It was clear that he didn’t see it. 

“Iroh! Behind you!” Asami shouted. But either he was too far away to hear her or he didn’t understand. She saw the tall spirit lift one of its three enormous legs and kick Iroh squarely in the back. He flew forward, skidding several feet before landing in a crumpled heap. This time, he didn’t get up. 

“Cowards!” she screamed, not even caring if anyone could hear. “Leave him alone!” 

You know what? Forget the gate. Forget the plan. She wasn’t going to watch him die, whatever happened after. Asami started forwards again. Iroh stirred, then struggled to his feet. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and started running, not back towards the gate, but straight towards the middle of the group of dark spirits. He seemed to be limping slightly.

 _Is he suicidal? What is he_ —and then Iroh launched himself into the air. Even in the midst of her fear, it was an impressive spectacle. Jets of fire shot from his hands and feet as he jumped, propelling him high above the plain. Iroh cleared the tops of the tallest spirits in a leap that must have been 900 feet clear across the battlefield. He landed in a crouch about ten feet from Katara. Asami saw his right leg go out from under him. He got up again quickly, then started speaking animatedly. He gestured behind him to the hundreds of spirits that were nearly upon them.

Asami cocked her head. She’d been so focused on Iroh that she hadn’t noticed the change. The spirits weren’t heading for her anymore. Although a few seemed to have peeled off towards where Iroh had been, the bulk of the group had banked slightly left towards where he and Master Katara now stood. Though they were still more than a quarter mile away, the change was distinct. _What is going on?_ she thought. She’d been so sure she was right. The spirits at Unalaq’s camp had overwhelmingly gone after Korra and Tenzin, even though she’d been the obvious aggressor. And they’d clearly been heading for their approximate position here, where this time she’d been sure to be the obvious weak link. But now it seemed like they’d changed their minds. They weren’t going after her, or the gate, at all. 

Asami gasped, suddenly understanding. They weren’t going after her because they _never_ went after her. She’d been so out of sorts earlier that she’d seen the pattern but missed the logic behind it entirely. In her pride, she’d assumed she’d somehow scared the spirits off, presented the harder target. But it hadn’t been about her at all. They hadn’t run away from her. They had simply ignored her. Just like the dark spirit in Fa Re had ignored her. And just like they were ignoring her now. It wasn’t about what she was or wasn’t doing. It was about who she was. Or wasn’t.

The spirits were going after the benders. 

Even though she’d had Mako and Bolin with her on her plane, their powers were negligible compared to two bending masters, a sky bison, and the Avatar herself. And Bolin hadn’t even been using his bending, instead for the most part relying on Varrick’s explosives. Looking back, every time she had encountered dark spirits they had, without exception, gone straight for the biggest group of benders. Even her long walk through the city earlier fell into place. She’d heard that the city was overrun with dark spirits, but she had been out for hours and encountered none.

It seemed like Iroh had figured it out as well. As she watched he pulled Master Katara into an awkward fireman’s carry, using his left side instead of his right, presumably to keep as much weight as possible off his injured leg. Then he took off again. At first they almost seemed to pitch forwards—Iroh must not be able to fly as well with only one hand—but he quickly adjusted. They made the several hundred foot jump in a few seconds, landing just in front of the center of the gate. She saw Iroh’s face twist in pain, but this time he kept his feet.

He set Katara down carefully. “I’m not _that_ old, Iroh,” she said, smoothing out her rumpled clothes. “And you don’t need to show off. We could have walked.”

His mouth ticked up into a half smile. “But I’m faster.” She glared at him and his smile broadened.

“Asami,” Iroh said, turning to her. His smile disappeared; he didn’t seem to want to meet her eye. “I think we need a slight adjustment in the strategy.”

Asami nodded. “The spirits. They don’t attack the weakest target at all, do they? You. Korra. Katara just now. The attacks on the Southern Resistance, on Tonraq. I bet most of the ordinary citizens they went after were waterbenders, too. They’ve just been going after the most powerful benders. They don’t see non-benders as much of a threat, I guess.”

Iroh nodded. “Which means that they’re not very smart. In fact, they’re really, really stupid, and perhaps even more predictable than we thought.” He glanced sideways at Katara. “We’ve just been using the wrong bait.”

***

“I swear, you’re as bad as Bumi,” Katara grumbled. “Didn’t I just heal your leg this morning?” 

“Is that better or worse than having to heal something new?” Asami asked, curious. She didn’t know much about how waterbending healing actually worked.

Katara glanced up at her, then back down at Iroh’s right leg. He sat on the ground in front of the gate, his pant leg pulled up over his knee to reveal a massive purple and black bruise on the front of his shin. It was dark and looked slightly swollen, making Asami think that most of what she could see was actually from his earlier injury. He’d been running around on _that?_

“Worse,” said Katara. “It’s no different, but it feels wasteful somehow re-doing good work.” She bent more water over Iroh’s leg, first along his shin and then up over his knee. The bruise seemed to lighten somewhat and the swelling faded. “Iroh, I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay off of it for a bit?” she said.

Iroh glanced at the approaching spirits. They were very close now. “No. And I need the field version, Katara. We only have a minute.”

Katara sighed. “Okay, get up. This should do for now. Next time you fall on it you probably _will_ break it though, and that’s a lot more work to fix, so do try and at least hurt the other one next time.” Iroh looked up at her, frowning slightly, as if unsure whether or not she was joking. He pulled his pant leg down and got to his feet, then bounced gingerly up and down on his leg, testing it. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

Katara just shook her head. “You and Bumi,” she muttered again, then stowed her bending water in one of the pouches at her side. Then she looked to Asami. “You’re still in charge, dear. I’m going to stand on the other side of the gate and try to calm any angry spirits that make it through. If you need something different, just yell.” With that, she climbed through one of the large holes in the grid of aluminum piping and started walking. “Iroh, don’t make me have to amputate anything!” she called back. 

“What do you need from me?” Iroh asked. 

“Same plan. Get as many dark spirits as you can to the gate. Keep as many as you can from going over the walls in other ways. Don’t die while doing it.” She smiled, but Iroh only nodded, then turned and took up a position on the opposite side of the makeshift gate. 

They weren’t a moment too soon. Asami readied her glove, holding it just above one of the aluminum pipes, and looked out at the plain. 

It was an awesome sight. Dark spirits of every size and description rushed towards them in a rough diamond that must have been nearly 500 feet across at its widest. She thought there had to be at least 300 of the things, maybe more. The silence was eerie. So many large creatures would usually make at least some kind of noise, but even at close range the advancing spirits were utterly silent. Their black feet rushed above the surface of the packed ice, sending up little swirls of loose snow as they passed. 

As they closed the final few hundred feet the group seemed to lengthen, some spirits speeding up while others dropped back slightly. The effect shifted the group from a loose ball into the pointed tip of a spear. Asami was reminded of something she’d read as a child about hunting dogs. She certainly hoped the dark spirits were as stupid as Iroh seemed to think they were. 

_Here we go,_ she thought. _Oh help us, here we go._


	28. ASAMI

The first of the spirits hit the makeshift gate. It looked like some kind of huge black cat, all long and lean, with six legs and enormous, dagger-tipped paws. It started to climb through one of the wide grates, ignoring both Asami and Iroh entirely. Asami triggered her glove against the metal. Bright white light flashed beneath her palm.

Nothing happened. 

The spirit passed right through. 

“Asami, now!” Iroh shouted. She saw fire flare out of the corner of her eye. 

Other dark spirits followed, one after another, and though Asami kept up a steady flow of electricity into the metal grid it didn’t seem to even slow them. Another blast of flame fired off to her left; Iroh, seeing the spirits pass the gate, must be doing what he could to weaken them. She saw a faint golden glow from the other side that must be Katara’s waterbending. 

Desperate, Asami stepped forward and plunged her gloved hand into the side of a huge ape-like creature attempting to squeeze through the grates. Electricity shot out from her palm, tearing a fist-sized hole in the creature’s side and, surprisingly, completely dissolving the midsection of the triangle-headed spirit behind it. Good, at least electricity could hurt them. That narrowed the list of problems.

The ape spirit turned its huge flat head to her, orange-rimmed eyes staring, then casually knocked her aside with one broad hand. Asami stumbled backwards. She doubled up in pain, eyes wide, barely keeping her feet. Her stomach felt like ice where the spirit had hit her. Iroh had never said how much it _hurt_.

She heard Iroh yelling and looked up. He’d started over to her, but she gave him a firm shake of her head and flashed him an okay sign with her ungloved hand. He needed to stay where he was.

Asami thought fast as she caught her breath. This should have worked. She knew that the gate had been electrified; she could see pools of water beginning to develop at the base where the heated metal pipes were melting the ice that coated the ground. 

_The ground… of course!_

“Asami, you idiot,” she growled. She wanted to hit herself, it was so basic. Electricity was only dangerous if it could pass _through_ an object. The spirits, floating several inches above the ground, weren’t connected to anything. Any current hitting them was inert.

“Iroh!” she yelled. “We have to ground them!”

“What does that mean?” Iroh called back. _Right. Not an engineer._

“Make them touch the ground when they get to the gate!” Iroh gave her a curt nod and stopped firing on the spirits. He ran over to the wall by his side of the entrance and jumped, hands at his sides. Twin jets of fire burst from his balled fists and he cleared the 15-foot jump easily to land on the top of the wall in a crouch. 

Asami took a deep breath, straightened, and trotted back to the side of the gate. Five dark spirits were piled up against the piping now, attempting to crawl over one another and through the holes. She grabbed the closest pipe with her glove and triggered the current. A blast of fire from the top of the wall caught the spirit closest to Iroh in one hunching shoulder. An area the size of a dinner plate disintegrated into a puff of darkness. At the same time the force of the blow, now coming from almost directly above it, knocked the floating spirit down to the ground.

This time, the effect was instantaneous. Blue-white electricity arced through the packed-in spirits. They jerked wildly, dissolving into clouds of churning, purple-black smoke. Then they shimmered and blurred, pulling back in on themselves, and were gone. 

Asami whooped and pumped her ungloved fist in the air. She instinctively looked up at Iroh and he flashed her a fierce grin. A second wave of spirits approached the gate, apparently undeterred, and started climbing through the wide openings in the gate. Asami tightened her grip on the edge of the pipes and sent a jolt of current into it as Iroh’s fire forced the one closest to him to the ground. 

They worked together like that, waiting for the spirits to get close together before Iroh would push one to the ground as she triggered the current. A few got through, especially the smaller ones, but for the most part they jammed against the gate. It looked a lot like when the spirits had piled on to Oogi to drag him down; it seemed like once they got an idea in their heads, they all went for it.

Yet after a minute it was clear that they would soon be overwhelmed. There were far, far more spirits than could fit through the comparatively narrow opening in the walls. Soon, Iroh was spending as much time firing on dark spirits attempting to climb or fly over the walls as he was continuing to push those at the gate into the ground. Asami, with only her glove, was no help here at all. 

A ball of fire whizzed past Asami’s face. She turned just in time to see one of the dark spirits knocked back in a cloud of smoke. It had apparently crept up behind her while she was focused elsewhere. She punched out with her glove, catching it directly in its odd rectangular face, and sent a jolt of electricity through its head. It spun and disappeared. She glanced up at Iroh.

“Thanks!”

“There are too many, Asami!” he called back. Then he leapt from his side of the wall, using his firebending to clear the spirits at the gate. He landed on the ice above her with a heavy thud. He looked exhausted. Sweat poured down his face, his hair was plastered to his forehead. “There’s too many,” Iroh said again. “I can’t keep up. We’ve done what we can. You need to get out of here.”

Asami thought hard. There had to be something else they could do. Electrocuting the spirits through the gate had turned out to be a good idea, but the gate just wasn’t large enough. Iroh was right—if they didn’t find a way to do a lot more damage, and fast, in another minute they’d be overrun.

“Iroh,” she said, “I need a cloud of steam out here. A big one. You and Katara can do it together. Tell her to use as much of the water coming out of the cut pipes as possible. It’ll have the most metal in it. We need to get as many dark spirits as possible inside the cloud of steam without any of us touching it. Okay?” 

“Are you—”

“ _Go._ ” Iroh nodded once, then disappeared over the wall. 

A minute passed. Asami dodged and ducked, trying to hit as many spirits with her gloved hand as possible without being knocked flat. She was briefly grateful that Iroh had helped her keep up with her kickboxing. She didn’t dare shock the gate itself any more. Slowly, she saw faint puffs of steam begin to float through the openings. It came thicker and thicker, until it billowed out from the gate in a steady stream, blanketing the attacking spirits in a soft white cloud. 

“Okay!” she yelled as loudly as she could. “Clear!” She counted to five, praying Iroh and Katara had heard her. Then she sent a bolt of electricity at the steam cloud. Blue-white lightning forked across nearly 200 feet of steamy night, briefly illuminating the dozens of spirits inside. Asami covered her eyes. There was a brilliant flash and a sound like a thunderclap. Her nostrils filled with the smell of ozone. When she opened her eyes again, the spirits in the cloud were gone. All of them.

For a moment, everything was silent. 

“Holy shit,” said a quiet voice from the other side of the gate.

“Okay!” she called over the wall. “Again!”

She turned just in time to see something black and sickly purple slam into her. Her whole body went numb with cold.

***

Asami didn’t remember sitting. What was she doing down here? She felt cold. Her head hurt. She reached her ungloved hand up into her hair. Her fingers came away wet. 

_That’s interesting,_ she thought.


	29. IROH

Iroh released fire into his hands and feet and jumped up onto the wall to the right of the gate. He’d heard Asami yell for more steam, but he wanted to see for himself what her pocket lightning storm had done. He had only the vaguest idea as to what had actually happened—did steam conduct electricity then?—but her creation might have just made the difference between their simply delaying the inevitable and winning outright. For the first time in several hours, Iroh felt something like hope.

He looked over the wall just in time to see Asami slam into the thick ice, then collapse. An enormous spirit with a mass of sharp, pointed horns stood about ten feet away. It must have thrown her into the wall. It lowered its head, the purple tips of its rack glowing faintly, preparing another charge.

Iroh’s vision went red.

He vaulted off the gate and landed in a crouch in front of Asami. He stood, extended his hands, palms out, and unleashed a blast of deep purple flame nearly as wide as the gate itself. It shot out of his hands in a blazing cone, engulfing the stag spirit and everything else within 40 feet of where Asami had fallen. The spirits that had been approaching the gate swirled and churned, then vanished into darkness. It wasn’t even close.

Iroh turned to Asami. She lay on her back in the snow, her gloved arm across her stomach. Her eyes were open. She blinked slowly, as if stunned. The snow underneath her head had started to turn a deep, ugly red.

_ Oh no. No no no no no no no. _

Iroh pulled off his jacket and flipped it over, exposing the cloth lining. The cold bit into him. He used his teeth to start a tear up one side, then ripped two wide strips of fabric from the inside of the coat. It wouldn’t be sterile, but the fabric was soft and would help to slow the bleeding. He gently lifted Asami’s head, trying not to move her neck too much, and placed a folded strip of fabric against where he thought the wound must be. There was a lot of blood. Keeping the pressure on with one hand, he wound the second strip of cloth around her head and secured it in as tight a knot as he dared. Asami closed her eyes.

“Hey,” he said. He gently tapped her cheek. It felt hot. “I need you to stay awake, okay?” Asami blinked and stared up at him. Her pupils were slightly dilated. “Focus on me. Can you do that?”

“I think he left already,” Asami said slowly. That was not good. Iroh was no medic, but he had enough field training to know confusion with a head injury was a bad sign. He took the rest of his jacket and laid it over her, tucking in the edges as best he could. Already under-dressed for the polar temperatures, he would have to firebend a lot more to keep from freezing in only a t-shirt, but that hardly mattered at the moment. 

“Katara!” he yelled. He glanced across the gate, but didn’t see her. Of course, she must still be behind it. He looked down at Asami, then at the approaching spirits. His fire hadn’t cleared the field for long. He didn’t want to move her, but he had to get her to Katara and behind some sort of cover.

Iroh leaned down and, as careful as possible not to move her head, lifted Asami into his arms. “The little bent ones,” she mumbled, and closed her eyes again. Iroh stood, then climbed through the gate, turning sideways as he tried not to jostle her. 

He found Katara on the other side. She looked tired and a bit disheveled, but was otherwise all right. “I heard you yell,” she said. “What happened to her?”

“Knocked into the wall. I don’t know how bad. She’s bleeding.” He walked about 20 paces from the wall and gently laid Asami down, trying to wrap his coat more firmly around her as he did so. Katara knelt next to her, then began to draw water out of one of her bending pouches. 

“Iroh, the gate,” she said sharply. Iroh turned to see two large spirits, the komodo rhino and some kind of horse, climbing through the holes after them. He raised his hands and saw that his right was smeared with blood. Rage such as he had never felt in his life filled him, heavy and dark and cold, so cold. He bent his arms back, then in one smooth motion sent fire straight at the two spirits. A jet of almost solid blue flame shot from his hands in a continuous stream. 

Iroh walked forward slowly, deliberately, never letting up. He no longer felt tired. When he got to the gate, he stepped easily through the hole he had melted in its center. The tips of the slagged pieces of metal glowed a dull orange in the dim light. Beyond the gate, the remainder of the spirits waited.

Iroh walked out to meet them, cold blue fire blazing before him.


	30. ASAMI

“Get _back,_ Iroh! You’re worse than a brooding otter penguin. She’ll be fine if you’d just


	31. ASAMI

It had been ages since Asami had had a bath. Not just a shower, but a real, actual bath. She laid back, luxuriating in the feel of the warm water on her head and neck. It felt like someone was massaging her scalp, too. The back of her head prickled pleasantly. She sighed contentedly, then opened her eyes.

Two enormous blue eyes stared back at her out of a dark, lined face. Asami started, then everything fell into place. She wasn’t in a bath. She was at the South Pole. In the middle of a battle? But it didn’t seem like a battle. She tried to move and found she couldn’t.

“See, Iroh,” Katara said, her face breaking into a smile. “She’s fine. Just a little knock on the head, that’s all. Cuts up there look a lot worse than they are.”

“Are you sure?” Iroh’s voice. Asami tried to find his face, but she still couldn’t move her head.

“I’ve been doing this twice as long as you’ve been alive, Iroh. Yes. I’m sure. Ask her yourself.”

Katara pulled back and Iroh’s face appeared over her. He looked pale and tired. 

“Did we win?” Asami asked. Her voice came out slightly cracked.

Iroh let out a relieved laugh. “Yeah. For now.” She felt his fingers brush her temple. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m… Iroh, I can’t move my head.” 

“That’s just the bending water.” As he said it, the warm feeling surrounding the back of her head started to recede. Then she felt a strong hand under her back. “Okay, up you go.” Her head throbbed faintly as she sat up, but when she tried again she found she could move her neck just fine. She reached one hand up and rubbed gingerly at the back of her head. It felt tender, but not painful. 

Asami saw that she was sitting on the ground on the city side of the wall. She didn’t quite know how she’d gotten there, but had a vague memory of perhaps being carried? It was all a bit fuzzy. She didn’t see any dark spirits at all. She looked to Iroh, who was kneeling next to her, one hand still on her back.

“What happened?”

Katara answered. The old woman was standing a few feet away, screwing on the top of one of her water pouches. “Iroh here says you got hit into the wall. You got a good thumping and cut yourself pretty badly, but you should be all right now.”

“No, I mean, what happened. The battle. Where are the dark spirits?”

“I’d like to know that myself, Iroh,” said Katara. To Asami’s surprise, she was frowning at him. 

Iroh looked away. “I… there weren’t that many left.” Katara’s frown deepened. She cast a glance back towards the city wall. Asami followed her gaze and her mouth dropped open. 

The aluminum gate was a blackened ruin. Its twisted remains had collapsed inwards, and the top bowed down considerably in the middle. A huge, ragged hole in the center smoked faintly. It looked like it had been hit with some kind of rocket, but she didn’t see any mecha around. Had Iroh done that? It didn’t seem possible. Whatever had happened, it had taken far more power than she’d ever seen a firebender wield, even one as talented as Iroh. Only a half hour before it had taken what she thought was nearly all his effort simply to weld the pipes together. But she didn’t see a lot of other possibilities. 

“What happened to the gate?” she asked. “Iroh?” He turned back to look at her, and she was surprised to see that he looked almost scared. With everything they’d faced so far, including the probable end of the world, she’d never once seen him frightened. She’d long since thought of him as one of the bravest men she knew. What could have happened in the few minutes she’d been out that would make a man like Iroh afraid?

Suddenly, the ground shook. Asami looked around, expecting some new threat, but there was only silence. Then she felt it again, the faint vibration so low that she might have missed it if she hadn’t still been sitting.

She looked back at Iroh. His face had gone white. He said nothing, but got up and walked cautiously to the ruined gate, then peered around the wall. Asami stood carefully, then followed him.

Through the gate and over the icy plain they had a clear view of the Southern Mountains. Although it was at distance, she could clearly see the pass that led to the spirit portal and Unalaq’s camp. Climbing through the gap in the mountains was… Korra? 

Whatever Asami had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Seemingly made of bright blue fire, the spirit form of Avatar Korra was the biggest thing that she had ever seen. Taller than Republic City’s tallest building, the glowing Avatar seemed to scrape the stars. She took one giant step, then another, clearing a mile or two with each stride. She stalked off to the north in the direction Iroh said that UnaVaatu had gone. Asami just stared. Perhaps her head wasn’t healed after all?

“It looks like we’re not out of the fight yet,” Iroh said beside her. Good. If he saw it too, at least she wasn’t hallucinating.

“That’s my girl.” Katara had walked up behind them. Asami turned to look at her. The old waterbender was beaming. “See, Miss Sato,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s always best to bet on the world.”


	32. ASAMI

Asami, Iroh, and Katara hurried back in the direction of the house. If Korra was still alive and fighting, then Asami wanted to get to the spirit portal as soon as possible to help. They hadn’t stopped all of the dark spirits that had come to the city, but it seemed like they had sent enough of them back into the Spirit World to at least end the immediate threat. Asami didn’t know what help she could offer the Avatar, but she was desperate to find out what had happened to her friends, and at any rate it couldn’t hurt.

Katara almost seemed to bounce beside her. Asami hadn’t realized how scared the old woman must have been until she saw the change in her demeanor. Clearly she thought similar; if Korra had gone after Unalaq, then there was a very good chance that her children had survived whatever conflict had freed Vaatu as well. 

Iroh, on the other hand, seemed grim. She didn’t understand that at all. He looked tired, they all did, but he didn’t seem hurt. The tide had turned completely, both for the members of the Southern Water Tribe still in the city and for the world in general, in no small part because of him. It was everything he’d come to the South Pole to do. The Avatar hadn’t won the day yet, but at least now there was a chance. She would have thought he’d be elated.

“Iroh, what’s wrong,” she said finally, dropping back a bit to walk beside him.

“Nothing.” He didn’t look at her.

“Bullshit, Iroh.”

“Asami, please.”

“Tell me!”

Iroh glanced at her and tried to smile, but he looked almost sad. “Asami,” he said softly. “Think. Where are they going?”

Asami stopped. Both of the giant spirits had walked off in almost exactly the same direction that she and Iroh had flown in from. Asami had been so focused on the South Pole and its residents that she hadn’t stopped to think at all about where UnaVaatu would have gone, or why. If the goal was destabilizing the current world to make way for a reign of dark spirits, there were only three places that made any sense: the Fire Nation capital, Ba Sing Se, and Republic City. Of these, she thought Republic City by far the most likely, as it was both the most symbolic target and the easiest to attack because of the relative lack of standing defenses. 

Defenses that the United Forces was supposedly in charge of. That Iroh, personally, was in charge of.

She looked at Iroh. His face was ashen. “So you agree, then?” he said.

“Iroh,” she said. “We have to leave. Now.” 

He shook his head. “It’s too late.”

“But Republic City, if you’re in charge of the fleet there you’ll be missed for sure if it comes under attack.”

“Asami, it took us nearly two weeks to get here by air. There is no possible way that I can get back in time to make a difference.”

“You don’t have to make a difference, Korra can make a difference, you just have to show up before anyone can think you’ve deserted.”

He shook his head again. “Impossible.”

“Of course it’s possible! We’ll leave right now. We could trade off, fly through the nights, I can teach you—”

“ _No._ Even if I could get to the plane and somehow fly straight through, I’d be days too late. You know I would. I’d have to stop and refuel at least once. And it would be too dangerous trying to fly that tired, especially in the dark. I’d never ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask, I’m off—”

“ _Asami,_ ” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, just before we came here, when I told you that I’d considered all the risks?” She nodded. Of course she did. “Nothing has changed. This was always a possibility. It isn’t the outcome I’d hoped for, especially as it puts all of Republic City in danger, but I accept the consequences of my actions.” He looked away and dropped his arm. “ _All_ of my actions. If I could go back, I like to think that I would make the same choice. Even if it didn’t work out for me personally. We made a difference here, both of us. That’s enough.”

“Where will you go then? Back to the Fire Nation?” Asami felt a twinge as her visions of laughing with Iroh at lifeless Republic City social functions crumbled. She would hardly see him, but at least he would be safe there. 

“Of course not.” 

“But won’t your family protect you? You’re a freaking prince, you’re third in line to be Firelord. They’d have to, wouldn’t they?” 

“I am not running home to my _mothers,_ Asami. I’ll not give anyone a reason to call me a coward. I’ll start back to Republic City as soon as I can find a ship and face whatever comes of it.”

“You can’t! You said… I mean surely Raiko wouldn’t… but…” She couldn’t believe it. Iroh had seemed confident that President Raiko would not only consider the most extreme punishment for his top general’s absence, but might try to engineer it for his own political gain. If the city were actually attacked while Iroh was away… 

“What would you have me do?” he said angrily. “Run away? Live the rest of my life in hiding like some hunted thing, confined to the palace, the shame of my family and my people? To say nothing of the implications for relations between the Fire Nation and the Republic. I might not be—” He stopped, closed his eyes briefly, and breathed out. “I had hoped that you thought more of me than that, at least.” 

Asami had nothing to say to that. She thought about a brave, intelligent, active man like Iroh effectively trapped in a palace for the rest of his life, hiding from his enemies, and couldn’t do it. 

“I can get you a ship,” she said quietly. What else was there to do besides help him? Between Varrick’s interests and Future Industries’ connections, finding a ship would hardly be an issue. “But if… if it’s really too late, then come with me to the spirit portal first. A few hours won’t make a difference. I think there is a good chance at least some of our friends are alive up there, but I have no idea what the situation is. You can sense any dark spirits before they appear, or at least well before I can. Plus, you know…” She made an expanding circle with her hands, miming an explosion. “I could use you.”

A strange look came over Iroh’s face. “The spirit portal,” he muttered to himself. 

“What is it?”

“It’s only a theory.” He sounded suddenly excited. “Tell me if I’m wrong, as much of this I’ve heard second hand from you. But what I understand is that the spirit portal itself is a gateway, a thin place between the two worlds that both humans and spirits can pass through. That thin place, that portal, was either created, or at least sustained, by concentrating large quantities of spiritual energy in one place. Right?” Asami nodded. That was more or less what Korra and Tenzin had told her.

“Then what if, what if large concentrations of spiritual energy _always_ cause a thinning of the boundary? It might not necessarily create a permanent portal, but it could create some kind of temporary opening.

“From what I’ve read, the Spirit World isn’t like our world. Places aren’t necessarily fixed. Instead, similar ideas or areas of emotional significance are grouped together, even if the areas they correspond to in our world are thousands of miles apart. This would explain why, according to Avatar Korra, both the northern and southern spirit portals are walking distance from one another on the other side. It could also explain how a dark spirit wound up in Fa Re. What seemed random to us must have been connected to the same kind of lonely, desperate place on the other side that it came from.

“The Avatar and UnaVaatu both carry within them some of the oldest and most powerful spirits. A battle between them on our side could generate enough spiritual energy in one place to create another gateway. And if that’s the case, it’s also not unreasonable to think that that gateway would be located near the other two portals in the Spirit World.”

Asami’s eyes widened. “A shortcut.” 

Iroh nodded. “If any of this is true, and that’s a big if, I could be back in Republic City in a matter of hours, not days. I would miss the beginning of the battle—I would have to in order to let enough energy build up to open a way through—but I could still be in time to help with the defense of the city. And Avatar Korra, if necessary.”

Asami couldn’t believe it. It was crazy, but it was worth a shot. 

“Come on, then. We have to try. Let’s go.”


	33. IROH

“I am going to see my children, Iroh, and I am going to make sure they are safe,” said Katara. “I would rather not put you in traction in order to do so. I spent a lot of time fixing you up, you know. I would hate for all that to have been wasted effort.”

“And Chief Tonraq?” Tonraq had been in pretty bad shape the last time Iroh had seen him. Although Katara said he would be fine, Iroh knew internal injuries were much more difficult to heal than the kinds of cuts and bruises that he and Asami had gotten, even the more severe ones. It was unlikely that he could be left for long periods of time without intervention.

“I’ll stay,” said Asami. She walked over from where she’d been untethering Oogi. “I can’t heal, obviously, but I can at least make sure he stays out of trouble and let him know what’s happening when he wakes up.”

“No,” said Iroh sharply. He wasn’t leaving her behind again. “I need you. Katara, I swear that if anyone needs help, one of us will get you immediately. I know some medical basics, and so does Asami. With any luck, we’ll have Kya as well. But we can’t trade someone who we know needs you now for others who only might. You know that. So would Aang.”

The anger in Katara’s face faded. She sighed. “I forget sometimes that none of you are babies anymore,” she said. She smiled a little. “And Korra will need her father once this is all over, I think.” 

Iroh nodded, then walked over to the sky bison. He’d never flown on one before, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to approach it. He looked back at Asami, hoping for a hint. She was speaking quietly to Katara. As he watched, Asami gave her a quick hug, then started walking back towards him. Oogi grunted softly and nudged his back with his head. 

“All right,” she said. 

“One moment, Miss Sato,” Katara called. “I need a word with this young man before we go.” She motioned to Iroh, then turned and walked back to the house. He glanced at Asami and shrugged slightly, then followed her. Iroh had no idea what she thought was so important to talk to him about, especially now, but he was in too much of a hurry to argue. 

Instead of going back inside, however, Katara walked around the side of the house. They emerged into a small back patio area. A table and a few chairs sat covered in snow. Iroh wondered when anyone ever sat outside at the South Pole.

Katara turned to face him, hands on her hips. “Tell her, Iroh,” she said simply. 

“Tell her what?” He assumed she meant Asami. There weren’t a lot of other “hers” about. But he wasn’t precisely sure what the old woman was getting at.

“You know what. I’ve been watching you. Both of you. I’ve seen how you look at her. How you listen when she talks. How you bring her up when _you_ talk. Your face when you touch her.” Katara raised one white eyebrow. “Did you know that every time I walk away from your Miss Sato, you find some reason to stay behind?”

Iroh blinked, surprised. No, he hadn’t noticed that. He was a little embarrassed he’d been that obvious. He’d have to watch himself, even if they were shortly going their separate ways. If Katara had seen through him, Asami probably had too, and she’d been perfectly clear that she wasn’t interested. “Don’t call her that,” he said. “We’re friends. That’s all.” 

“You’re still a bad liar, Iroh,” the old woman said. “I know friends. Friends can care deeply about one another, it’s true. Even share an exploratory kiss or two. But just now, she scratched her head and I thought you were going to set the whole world on fire, and everything in it. Does that sound like ‘friends’ to you?” 

Iroh looked down, no longer able to meet her eye. Asami had done far more than scratch her head, but he couldn’t deny that he’d overreacted. He’d never felt rage like that before, let alone used it to fuel his bending. In that moment he’d wanted to do nothing but wipe the creatures that had hurt her from the face of the earth. Hatred had filled him, utterly and completely. In retrospect, it had been more than a little scary.

Katara sighed, then shook her head. Her voice was sober now. “I haven’t seen blue firebending in over 60 years, Iroh, but I have seen it. I know what emotions fuel it. Yet a wise woman once said that anger is just another side of love, for to be truly angry is to care tremendously. The more violent the love, the more violent the anger.”

Iroh felt his face grow hot. There didn’t seem to be much point in lying to Katara, then. Apparently, despite his best efforts, he was completely, embarrassingly transparent. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure that he and Asami could even _be_ just friends anymore. It might simply be too hard for him. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. 

“We hardly know each other,” he said softly.

“And?”

“And… and I already asked. She said no.” He kicked a chunk of ice that had fallen from the roof of the house. It bounced away into the snow. 

“I don’t believe that. From either of you.”

“Leave it, Katara. It’s fine. I just need some time, that’s all.”

“What you need is to get your head out of the snow and _talk_ to her. Perhaps when you both aren’t three seconds from death, either. You know, the first time Aang—”

“Not everyone gets to be you and Aang!” he snapped. Katara stared at him. Iroh looked down and saw his hands were balled tightly at his sides. He realized he’d been shouting.

“I’m sorry.” He unclenched his fists, then ground the heel of one palm into the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper like that, but he was so tired. “She’s in love with somebody else, and I can’t do this right now.” 

He turned and started back to the front of the house. 

“She looks at you, too, Iroh. Whatever she may have said, I’ve seen how she looks at you.”

Iroh kept walking.


	34. KATARA

Katara watched as Iroh and Asami mounted up on Oogi. In a flash of memory she saw Aang lounging on the back of Appa after some trip or other, sunlight glinting off his bald head, both his arms around a pile of sleeping children. Something twisted in her chest. Katara had learned long ago that the only way to survive life married to the Avatar was to stubbornly assume that everyone was fine unless shown proof to the contrary. Given the constant danger that he, and by extension she and their children, had been in, any other way of being would have driven her crazy with worry. Bumi, Kya, and Tenzin were therefore fine. 

Katara shook her head and the image cleared. Instead, Iroh sat awkwardly on Oogi’s neck, his long legs splayed out on either side of him. He’d gotten so tall! She didn’t like thinking how old that must make her. It was striking how much he looked like Izumi, too, especially in build. She was glad to see him filling out a little as well, though he still didn’t eat enough. Katara suspected he worked too much. She wasn’t sure what it was that made him drive himself so hard. Of all of Izumi and Honora’s children, he was the only one who always seemed to have something to prove, though she had no idea to whom. 

The girl, Asami, was still on the ground, arms crossed, and seemed to be lecturing him about something. Katara had always liked Korra’s pretty friend, and over the past two days her opinion had only gone up. It was obvious that she was very intelligent, but she’d impressed Katara more with the way she, like Iroh, tended to put others first. There were entirely too many selfish people in the world already. At the spirit portal and after, and then again on the city walls, Asami hadn’t hesitated to do what was necessary, whether it meant putting her life on the line, shouting orders, or leaving the battlefield entirely. Even the way that she’d come to the South Pole, seemingly at the spur of the moment, spoke to her quick understanding of what was needed to protect her friends. There was a pragmatism about her that Katara found refreshing. Iroh could certainly do a lot worse. Especially if he stopped being stupid.

She shook her head. She didn’t know what was wrong with either of them. It was clear as day to her that they liked one another quite a lot, and not just as friends, either. She didn’t think they had been more than passing acquaintances before they had left on their trip, but Katara knew as well as anyone how traveling together could make you see someone in a new light. And they seemed to suit one another, too; both bright and confident, Asami’s quick wit and cool-headed approach matched by Iroh’s quiet passion. But so far, nothing much had come of it. Asami remained aloof, almost oblivious, even though to Katara, Iroh’s interest was painfully obvious. Iroh himself had actually shouted at her, declaring the whole thing impossible, despite the fact that Asami’s eyes tracked him wherever he went as if she were worried about losing something precious the moment her back was turned. Whatever conversation they’d had after she’d nearly caught them pawing at each other in the kitchen, it hadn’t been the one Katara had expected. There must be something else going on that she didn’t understand. 

Iroh, seemingly losing the argument, climbed into Oogi’s saddle basket. Asami’s mouth curled into a little smile as he turned his back. In love with someone else, he had said?  _ Right, _ thought Katara.  _ And I’m a moon peach. _


	35. ASAMI

“There’s not even a stick to pull,” Asami said. “You’ve never been on a sky bison, Iroh, let alone flown one. Shove over.”

“What about your head?” he said. “You need to rest, and the dark spirits could come back at any moment. I should be up front. Besides, it’s Tenzin’s bison. If Tenzin is alive, they’ll find each other. I might not have to do much if Oogi already wants to go back there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not a homing pigeon-rat. He’s just as likely to fly you back to Air Temple Island, or somewhere with nice-tasting grass. He needs direction.”

“Still...” Iroh said. 

“Iroh!” Asami stamped her foot, losing her patience. “Get. In. The. Back.” She narrowed her eyes. “ _Now._ ” 

Iroh got in the back.

Asami climbed up after him, sitting once again in the pilot’s position on Oogi’s neck. Iroh, behind her in the saddle basket, rifled through the blankets piled in the bed of the traveling compartment. He seemed to be searching for something. “Asami, where are the seatbelts?” he asked, lifting another blanket to look underneath. Asami smirked.

“Yip yip, Oogi,” she said.

***

Asami thought hard as they flew through the night, trying to poke as many holes as possible in Iroh’s theory. She’d been wrong about the dark spirits earlier, and the guilt of that mistake gnawed at her. If Iroh was going to try something dangerous, something that could make the difference between him being only briefly missed and military prison, or worse, she wanted to make sure that it was as airtight as possible. She would allow no more miscalculations.

The problem was that there was so much they didn’t know. Iroh’s information about the Spirit World had come mostly from books, supplemented by whatever fragments Asami had learned from Tenzin and Korra. But the spirit portals had been closed for thousands of years, and except for some long-dead air nomads who claimed to have been able to move between planes, no one had physically been there in living memory. Most of their information was old, theoretical, and at best second-hand, and all of it was from memory. 

They were flying blind in so many ways. Despite the hope that seeing Korra’s spirit had brought, they still had no idea what had happened to the rest of Team Avatar, either. There could be any number of situations waiting for them at the portal, and there was no way that Asami could plan for them all. Although she was closer to Korra, Mako, and Bolin, she knew that Iroh considered Katara’s children as something akin to surrogate aunts and uncles. Though he tried to act otherwise, he was clearly worried about them. If they were in trouble, Asami had no doubt that Iroh would sacrifice even this last chance in order to help them. She thought briefly of electrocuting him and trying to find a way back herself if that happened, but that was hardly practical. For one, he was heavy.

The spirit portal loomed ahead. The bright white light of the portal itself lit the sides of the mountains in an eerie glow. The dark trees at its base looked almost black. Asami looked down, trying to scan ahead for any incoming threat, but she saw none. The Northern Water Tribe encampment seemed empty. No fires were lit, and although it was dark she didn’t see any movement. It looked like it had been abandoned in the hours since her escape with Tonraq. Surprisingly, there were no signs of any dark spirits, either. There was a chance that all of the spirits at the portal had been among the ones that had assaulted the city, but she couldn’t be sure, especially in the dark. If Iroh could feel the spirits in some way, it would be better to ask him.

Asami glanced behind her and was astonished to see that Iroh was fast asleep. He lay in the very back of the saddle basket, his head tipped back to rest on the rim, legs stretched out in front of him. Asami’s mind was racing, going over every bit of information that she had again and again. How on earth could he have fallen asleep?

She supposed it made sense though. Except for the short time in Katara’s spare room, Asami had been awake for nearly 36 hours. Iroh hadn’t gotten much more sleep than she had, and on top of it all had walked or maybe run more than 12 miles and done a staggering amount of firebending. The gentle rocking of Oogi’s saddle basket must have sent him right over the edge. 

They touched down lightly just outside the trees that surrounded the spirit portal. Asami climbed into the saddle behind her as soon as they landed and crossed the basket. Iroh was still asleep. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He must be exhausted. Up close, she saw that he needed a shave.

Asami stood over him, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, every minute counted. On the other, he looked more relaxed than she’d seen him in days. She didn’t want to be the one to break that. 

It couldn’t hurt to do a little reconnaissance, she decided. She picked up one of the folded blankets, shook it out, and draped it carefully over him. His coat wasn’t all that warm, after all, and he couldn’t exactly firebend in his sleep. His head turned a little to the side, his lips slightly parting, but he didn’t wake. Asami fought back the sudden urge to kiss him again. _No._ She’d been through that already. She was better than that. Some things just weren’t for her, and that would have to be okay. 

Five minutes, no more, she thought. She could give him that, at least.


	36. IROH

Iroh felt the saddle basket shift under him. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. “What did I miss?” he asked, sitting up. The blanket that had been draped over him fell to his hips. Had he had a blanket before?

“Me,” said a woman’s voice. 

Iroh opened his eyes just as a tight metal cord wrapped around him. It pulled taut, pinning his arms painfully at his sides. Attached to the other end of the metal whip was the petite metalbender from Unalaq’s camp. Chelin, he remembered. Her green eyes narrowed in contempt. Iroh, still half asleep, only stared at her. 

“Sleeping? Pathetic,” she said. Her voice was low, almost raspy. She vaulted down off of Oogi’s saddle, still holding the thin metal cord in one hand. “This is for the kick,” he heard her say, then she jerked the whip. The cord cut sharply into his arms as he was hauled over the edge. Iroh tried his best to roll into the fall, but there was only so much he could do. He landed heavily on his bruised shoulder and swore loudly. 

Chelin yanked him up onto his knees. “Take me to the Avatar, Mako,” she said. 

Iroh looked at her, then burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. “Are you serious?” he said finally.

She yanked painfully on the whip again. “Very. Get up.”

Iroh awkwardly got to his feet. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. “You keep making the same mistake, you know.”

“I’m not Aunroch. You’re stalling. Move.”

“And you still think your bending is an advantage.”

Chelin frowned at that. Then she jerked; once, twice. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped to the ground. Asami stood behind her, gloved hand extended, palm out. Iroh caught a whiff of ozone. 

“That’s a shame,” Asami said, lowering her arm. She toed the unconscious Chelin with one boot. “Future Industries started coating metalbender suits in teflon ages ago. It makes them less susceptible to electric shocks. I guess Unalaq bought cheap.” She smiled at Iroh. “Also, what’s with all these guys assuming you’re Mako? I don’t think you two look anything alike.” 

Iroh blinked at that. She didn’t? Though come to think of it, he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. He felt the metal whip around him relax. “See?” he said, shaking it off. He gingerly rubbed at his shoulder and grimaced. “Strategic ability.”

“That, having my arms free, and about 50,000 volts of electricity,” Asami said.

“I like the direct approach.” 

“I’m sure you would have thought of something, but we’re in a hurry. Come on. I found the path to the portal.”

“One minute,” Iroh said. He walked over to the metalbender, leaned down, and unfastened something from her belt. He dangled a pair of metal handcuffs at Asami and smiled. “I wonder how Chelin here will like the six mile walk in the snow with her arms behind her back?” 


	37. ASAMI

The woods surrounding the spirit portal were silent and full of shadows. The blinding light of the portal threw everything into a sharp relief, giving Asami the impression that she and Iroh had walked into one of Varrick’s black-and-white movers. There was no wildlife of any kind; she heard none of the chirps and trills she’d come to associate with a wooded area at night. Their footsteps were the only sounds.

The portal itself stood in a clearing in the middle of thick, gnarled trees. A jet of solid white light, interspersed with streaks of green, rose in a thick column as high as Asami could see. It was perhaps 15 feet across and, though she couldn’t see through it, likely as deep. It was beautiful in the same way that the Southern Ocean had been beautiful from the air; an object of awesome, nearly limitless power of which she knew she was only glimpsing the surface.

“What do I do?” she heard Iroh say softly.

“I don’t know. I flew off with Chief Tonraq, remember?”

“Okay,” he said. “It doesn’t feel… angry, I suppose. Like the dark spirits. Just powerful.” He glanced sideways at Asami, then took a few steps forward. “Stay here,” he said. 

“Like hell!” she hissed. “I stayed behind the last time and look what happened. Giant, evil spirit Unalaq is probably kicking over my factory as we speak.”

“Please!” Iroh said. He looked back at her, and in the harsh light she saw that his face was pale and tight. He looked, of all things, frightened. Like he had been when she’d asked him about the melted gate. Which, she now realized, he’d never answered. 

“Please, Asami,” he said again. “I don’t know what the spirit portal will do. It’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt. More powerful than all of those dark spirits combined. Getting through might take some kind of meditation, or a test, I don’t know. I might not even be able to do it. But I do know that I can’t figure it out if half my brain is worried about your safety.”

He wasn’t scared for himself; he was worried about _her_. The idea seemed to ignite something small and warm in her belly, like a flickering candle in a dark room. 

“Okay,” she said. If anything happened to Iroh because of her she didn’t know how she’d live with herself. “Be careful.” Iroh nodded, then turned to the portal. He approached slowly but deliberately, shoulders back, back straight, the way one might approach a dangerous animal. He stopped just in front of the beam of light, paused, and took a deep breath. He raised his right hand. Asami squeezed her eyes shut. 

Nothing happened. 

Asami opened her eyes. Iroh was gone. 

“Iroh?” she whispered. The silence of the forest was deafening. 

Suddenly, Iroh’s head appeared at the edge of the beam of light, followed by one arm. He held out a hand to her. 

“Asami!” he said. “Come on. It’s okay. You’ve got to see this.”

***

The spirit portal opened onto a scene unlike anything Asami could have imagined. The forest was gone. Instead, she stood with Iroh on a wide expanse of volcanic plain ringed in the distance by black, jagged rocks. The sky above was a deep, flawless indigo utterly devoid of stars. On this side of the boundary the white light of the spirit portal was bent, arcing in an enormous, perfect curve to connect with the ground about a quarter mile distant. Beneath the apex of the arch stood a single, massive tree. It was dead. 

It looked to Asami like some kind of ancient oak, if oaks could grow as wide and tall as a city block. The tree towered over the flat landscape, its gnarled, stubby branches stretching naked into the darkened sky. A wide crack opened into its center, as if it had once been hit by lightning. 

Standing around this opening in the tree were Mako, Bolin, Tenzin, Bumi, and Kya. Asami breathed a sigh of relief. Although the team looked tired and scuffed, no one appeared injured. She thought that it was nothing short of amazing that they were all well and on their feet. She was so focused on her friends that it took her a moment to realize that they were not alone. Unalaq’s twins, the ones who had helped capture her only a few hours before, stood off to the side in wary silence. Korra was nowhere in sight, which made a certain amount of sense, though Asami had no idea what the real relationship was between the giant spirit they had seen and her friend. 

“Asami!” Bolin was waving his arms over his head. The rest of the group looked stunned at the sudden appearance of not one, but two completely unexpected people. Asami gave them a quick wave, then turned to Iroh.

“How will you know where to go?” she said. The dark plain looked the same to her in every direction. Asami didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but she’d somehow assumed the way to Republic City would be more obvious. 

“I don’t know,” Iroh said. “I’ll have to trust my instincts. There isn’t time for anything else. From what I’ve read of the Spirit World though, it isn’t static. It reacts to your thoughts and feelings. Perhaps if I think about Republic City hard enough, a path will open.” He shook his head. “That’s the best I’ve got right now.”

In the meantime, Tenzin, Mako, and Bolin had jogged over to them. Behind them, Kya and Bumi kept a sharp eye on Unalaq’s twins. 

“Asami,” Tenzin said, “I thought you were with my mother. Is everything okay? Is that blood on your collar? And Iroh, what on earth are you doing here? Have the United Forces finally gotten involved in the war? How long have they been here? What’s going on?” 

Asami held up her hands to stop the flood of questions. “Master Tenzin,” she said. “Everyone is fine. More than fine. Though I imagine your mother will have a few things to say when you see her next.”

Iroh cut in. “Tenzin, good to see you,” he said. “We were worried.” They shook hands, and Iroh nodded to Mako and Bolin as well. Then he tipped a little salute in Kya and Bumi’s direction.

“How’s it hanging, Iroh?” shouted Bumi from a distance, one hand cupped to his mouth. 

Iroh smiled, then turned back to Tenzin. “I’m afraid that the United Forces are still on the sidelines, Tenz. I’m here in my personal capacity. I’d consider it a favor if you kept that between us, too. The president of the Republic and I had a bit of a, well, a bit of a disagreement about the importance of the war down here. While what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, I’m not sure that I can say the same.” 

“Of course, Iroh. Thank you for coming,” said Tenzin. “I’m sure we can use a man of your talents. One member of the United Forces is, I suppose, better than none.”

Iroh smiled slightly. “Two, counting Bumi. We’re a regular band of renegades.” 

“Tenzin,” Asami said, “we might not have much time. Based on what Iroh and I saw, it looks like Unalaq merged with Vaatu, then took off north, most likely towards Republic City. Then Korra, or projection of her, or something like that, went after him. Is this more or less accurate?”

“Yes,” said Tenzin. He rubbed his chin. “More or less.”

“We don’t really know what happened,” added Mako. “Korra’s body is still here. You can’t see her, but she’s inside that tree in some kind of trance.” He glanced nervously around. “We’ve had more visits from the dark spirits, so we’re making sure she’s safe while whatever that spirit version of her is goes to finish Unalaq and Vaatu. That’s why we didn’t come back.”

“That, and we’re not entirely sure that we can trust Desna and Eska,” said Bolin, nodding towards Unalaq’s twins. He lowered his voice. “I think they’re kind of crazy.”

Asami nodded. It all made sense. She motioned to Iroh, then stepped a little away from the group. He followed her, but glanced back at Mako as he left. He looked slightly puzzled. “You’d better go, then,” she said quietly. 

“What about Avatar Korra? If we need to guard her body, I can stay.”

“Who zapped more dark spirits today, you or me? Go. I’ll stay and help. Besides, Korra might need you elsewhere.” Asami had no idea if this was true, but hoped it would get Iroh moving. Then she had another thought. She rummaged in her pocket and brought out her mechanical light. She took Iroh’s hand and pressed the rectangular metal into his palm, then gently closed his fingers over it, covering his hand in hers. “Here,” she said. “Take it. Just in case.”

“Wait, your prototype?”

“You borrow it all the time. I think you use it more than I do. Just bring it back.”

“Asami, I don’t—" Iroh swallowed, then glanced around, as if fully taking in their surroundings for the first time. He ran one hand quickly through his dark hair, his jaw tight. “I don’t know that I’ll be able to get out the other side. It’s a theory, nothing more. And if I can’t… I don’t know what happens if I can’t.”

Asami rocked forward on her toes and kissed him. Her lips landed somewhere between his cheekbone and the corner of his mouth. His skin felt dry and hot. As she pulled away she saw that the odd, wary look was back in his eyes, the one he’d had when she’d first touched the scar on his arm. This close, it almost looked like a question.

“Go,” she said, and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. She pushed his hand, the one holding her light, to his chest and then let go. “See you in Republic City.” Iroh nodded, frowning slightly. Then he turned and took off at a jog in the opposite direction of the tree. 

Asami watched him go, then turned towards her friends. They were all staring at her. 

Mako stepped forward. “What was all that about?” he asked. 

“What was what about?” said Asami.

“You just _kissed_ General Iroh,” he said.

“On the cheek.” For all Mako knew, that was all she’d ever done, too. “He’s a friend. What of it?”

“That’s not what it looked like from here. And since when?” 

“Mako, who I kiss and why is so unbelievably none of your business that it’s almost laughable.”

Mako scowled and opened his mouth to argue, but Bolin put a hand on his brother’s chest and cut in. “Hey!” he said. “I like General Iroh. He seems like a handy guy to have on our side. But uh, Asami. He knows the war is still in the South Pole, right? So where is he going?”

“Where _is_ he going, Asami?” asked Tenzin. “It seemed like he was in a hurry so I didn’t press, but what is he looking for?”

“I’m not sure it’s my business to tell you,” Asami said. “Just know that he’s trying to help.” 

Tenzin nodded. “All right. But whatever it is, I hope he finds it soon. Because as soon as Korra wakes up, she’s going to close both of these portals for good.”


	38. IROH

Iroh jogged up the gentle rise leading away from the spirit portals. He picked a random point on the horizon and stuck to it, hoping at the very least to avoid going in circles. He wasn’t exactly sure how to navigate in the Spirit World, not really, let alone if what he was looking for even existed. All he could do at this point was try his luck and see what happened.

He slowed to a walk as his leg began to ache. Waterbending could accelerate the healing process, but it wasn’t a cure-all. As he continued to climb, he thought about Republic City. He thought about the Avatar, about UnaVaatu, about his battleship—anything that might make a connection to where he needed to go. Iroh tried very, very hard not to think about the warm place on his cheek where Asami’s lips had been, or the small shard of hope that had lodged in his heart. None of that would help him now.

He crested the hill and began to wind his way among the tall, jagged rocks that rimmed the shallow basin. Even up close, they were sharp. To Iroh it looked like a forest of giant, blackened knives. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Asami’s little light; there would be no one to help him up here if he missed a step and fell. As he walked, the air seemed to grow heavy. The whole place had a feeling about it similar to the dark spirits; of anger, and of _wrongness,_ somehow. If this was where Vaatu had been for thousands of years, Iroh had no trouble believing that the spirit wished them ill. He walked quickly and quietly, hoping to pass unnoticed.

The other side of the ridge opened down into a wide, grassy plain dotted with rocks and small trees. Iroh had gone perhaps ten steps before he realized that it was no longer night. Instead, the golden light of late afternoon cast long shadows in the tall yellow grass. He turned around to find himself on top of a small hill. The dark volcanic rocks he had walked through only a moment ago were gone, replaced by an endless sea of prairie. Overhead, the sky was a perfect azure blue.

Iroh had a moment of panic as he realized he had no idea how to get back to the spirit portals now. But if he had to go back he was probably as good as dead anyway, at least if he had any integrity. He’d meant what he said to Asami. Iroh certainly didn’t want to die, but he wasn’t going to run, either. Whatever happened, he wanted to be able to hold his head up at the end of it. Wasn’t that the whole reason he’d come to the South Pole in the first place? 

If there was no way back, then he had little choice but to go forward. Iroh stowed Asami’s light again and continued down the slope of the hill into the thigh-high grass. As he walked, his steps disturbed what he realized with wonder must be miniature spirits. Glowing motes of orange, yellow, indigo, and red swirled up from his feet like embers blown from a fire. They whirled about him, almost seeming to dance before scattering into the sky overhead. Iroh watched, fascinated, his fear momentarily forgotten. He was so absorbed in the spectacle that he almost missed the path through the grass entirely.

To call it a path was perhaps generous. It more closely resembled a game trail of some sort; a line of crushed and beaten grass running almost perpendicular to his route. Iroh stopped, looking first right and then left. The path looked identical in both directions. He saw no others.

 _Okay,_ he thought, and closed his eyes. Then he pictured, with as much detail as he could recall, the door to his quarters. He imagined the rough gray steel of the door itself, its rounded edges. He thought about the feel of the lever as he turned it, the smooth metal cool under his hand. He even tried to remember the number of rivets across the topmost edge ( _six?_ ) and down the side ( _no idea_ ). Then Iroh thought about how he felt opening that door; going home, such as it was, at the end of a long day. Relief at the prospect of quiet, at the shedding of shoes and responsibilities, mixed with the anticipation of whatever he had planned for his evening and, he had to admit, the smallest touch of loneliness. Then he walked in a slow circle. When Iroh opened his eyes, he was facing directly down the path to what had been his right. He started walking.

As he went along, he noticed a growing number of brown rocks littering the prairie to either side of the path. At first they were only the size of his fist, but as he went they got progressively larger and larger until he was regularly passing boulders that came up well past his hips. Curious, Iroh cautiously approached one that was taller than he was. As he moved closer, he saw that it wasn’t a rock at all, but some kind of insect nest built from the hardened soil of the prairie. Tiny, bright, fly-like spirits of every imaginable color fluttered and darted in and out of what had to be thousands of holes in the mound, bumping their faces together as they passed one another on their business. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” said a voice. Iroh jumped. He looked around and saw no one. Cautiously, he peered around the mound, keeping one hand behind his back in case he needed to quickly bend. 

A man was seated on the ground behind the enormous nest in the shade of one of the small trees. He sat cross-legged on a faded red blanket, facing Iroh, his back to the setting sun. Before him was an old fashioned tea set. 

The man was quite old, perhaps in his 80s, with long white hair that didn’t entirely reach the crown of his head and a full, bushy beard. He was dressed in some kind of green and yellow robe. Though he was seated, he seemed short and squat; Iroh thought the top of his head might come up no farther than his shoulder when standing. The man also seemed vaguely familiar somehow. He decided to be careful—though Iroh had none of the bad feelings he’d gotten from Vaatu and the dark spirits, he knew the Spirit World could be just as tricky and dangerous as it was beautiful. 

The old man looked at him and beamed. “Iroh!” he said, and laughed. His bronze eyes crinkled up at the corners. “I’ve been waiting for ages to say that, you know. I find it very funny.” 

“Hello,” said Iroh cautiously. He had no idea why his name would be amusing, let alone how this man knew who he was. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen him before, but though his light tan skin and gold eyes seemed to suggest he was from the Fire Nation, he was dressed more like an old-style Earth Kingdom courtesan. “I’m sorry, do I know you? I think we may have met, but I don’t recall your name. Please believe me when I say that I’ve had a very strange day.”

“Ah!” said the old man. “Sometimes, to find the true name of a thing, you must instead look inside yourself.” That didn’t make any sense to Iroh. The only thing he felt inside himself at the moment was hungry. He realized with some surprise that he hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Would you like some tea?” As if reading his mind, the old man uncovered a shallow dish filled with what smelled like roasted rice balls. Iroh’s stomach growled. He couldn’t recall that the dish had been there a moment ago.

“Um. All right.” In truth, a brief rest sounded nice. He knew that he had to keep moving, but the tea he’d shared with Asami in Katara’s kitchen seemed like a thousand years ago, and he was so tired. Iroh released the tension in his hand—the man didn’t seem like much of a threat—and walked over under the tree. He sat down, then accepted a cup of tea. It smelled wonderful.

They sipped in silence. Iroh munched on one of the rice balls and found it delicious. The colorful bugs on the dirt mound buzzed lazily behind him in the growing twilight. After a few minutes, Iroh said, “Thank you. I know that I am already in your debt, but may I ask you a question?” 

The old man nodded. “Yes. I hope that it is the right one.”

Iroh frowned. He had no idea what the man might think the right question was, but there was only one that mattered at the moment. “I need to cross back over into my world, the physical world, where I came from,” he said. “I need to do it at a specific place called Republic City. I have reason to believe the barrier between here and there is particularly thin at the moment. Do you know if this is possible?”

The old man nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly, “it is possible.” Iroh felt something loosen in his chest. He and Asami had been right. 

“Can you help me? I’m not quite sure where or how to do it, and I have to get there as quickly as I can.”

The old man shook his head. “See? That is the wrong question,” he said. 

“What do you mean, the wrong question?”

“That is not the question that you should be asking.”

“Then what is the right one?” Iroh said. He was growing impatient. It seemed that the old man only talked in circles.

“The right question is not whether or not I can help you. It is, can you help yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

The old man looked at Iroh, then put down his teacup. “The air nomads,” he said, “before they were wiped out nearly 200 years ago, were always the culture closest to the spirits. Many of them dedicated their lives to good works and peaceful contemplation. By releasing their hold on earthly desires, and by embracing the element of air with their whole being, many were able to pass beyond the realm of the physical world.” The old man looked at Iroh, his eyes sad. “This art, it grieves me to say, has been largely lost.”

“So, you’re saying that I have to meditate?” Iroh felt a spark of hope. He’d always been good at that, although he thought with some concern about what had happened when he’d tried to lightning bend. 

The old man shook his head. “No. It is not that simple. You do not only have to meditate. You have to let go. You have to embrace air. Become, air. Only then may you pass through the boundaries of our worlds at will.”

Iroh nodded, then closed his eyes. He crossed his legs and felt Asami’s little light press against him from the inside of his pocket. _All right,_ he thought. _Let go. Embrace air. Become air._ He breathed in and counted to ten. Then he breathed out.


	39. ASAMI

“What do you mean, close the portals?” Asami asked. She wasn’t sure she’d heard Tenzin right. If Korra defeated UnaVaatu, why would the portals need to close?

Tenzin frowned at her. “I mean permanently seal the portals,” he said. “That was the Avatar’s whole purpose in coming here. As soon as Korra comes back, she needs to close them for good.”

“But why?” said Asami. “Korra said Vaatu can only break out of prison during this harmonic convergence thing. She said that only happens every 10,000 years. If she’s able to imprison Vaatu again, then there's no reason to close the portal right away.”

Tenzin’s frown deepened. “Of course there is. Even without Vaatu, leaving a way open between our world and the Spirit World is incredibly dangerous. The first Avatar, Avatar Wan, sealed them for a reason that had nothing to do with Vaatu. We’ve both seen what happens when spirits are unleashed into our world, and humans have no business here, either. What if someone just wandered into the Spirit World one day?”

Asami glanced back at the direction Iroh had gone. She could just see him, a small black dot cresting a distant rise. “Tenzin, someone has.” 

Tenzin followed her gaze. “I know,” he said softly.

“Then Korra can’t close the portals yet!” Asami said. “Not until we know for sure if Iroh found… whatever it is he’s looking for. He just left. It could be hours or even days before we know if he’s successful.” 

“We can’t wait for him,” Tenzin said quietly. His face was pale. “Whatever happens to Unalaq if Korra is the victor, there is no guarantee that someone else won’t step into his place. Even if Vaatu is imprisoned, there is no end to the trouble that someone could cause by stirring up dark spirits again. The portals need to close, Asami.” He glanced again at Iroh’s retreating form. “And I’d be very surprised if General Iroh didn’t know that.”

Asami followed Tenzin’s gaze to Iroh again and saw him disappear among the rocks that lined the rim of the crater. Honestly, Korra closing the portals while Iroh was still inside the Spirit World had never occurred to her. If Iroh had considered the possibility, he hadn’t mentioned it, either. Which, considering that sealing the portals had been Korra’s goal only a few hours before, was a stunning oversight on both their parts. 

“But if Iroh came back and the portals were shut, he’d be trapped here.” 

“He might be.” Tenzin’s voice was grave. “But if we don’t close them, spirits will continue to be able to flood into our world. You’ve seen what they can do. It would bring havoc, even without an instigator. It could put millions of people in danger. We can’t take that chance. The world can’t take that chance.” Tenzin’s gray eyes met hers. “I’ve known General Iroh a long time, Asami. He wouldn’t take that chance, either.”

“He doesn’t want to die here, Tenzin!” she snapped. “I know that much, I don’t care how far you two go back. Is there even food in the Spirit World? He has nothing, there wasn’t time, we can’t… we can’t…”

“Asami,” Tenzin said. “Iroh would trust the Avatar’s instincts, just as his mother and grandfather trusted my father. I know he would. Look me in the eye and tell me otherwise.”

Asami couldn’t do it. She knew what Iroh would say. She hated him for it.

“We’ll wait as long as we can,” said Tenzin. “That’s the most I can promise him.” 

Asami turned her back on him and walked away.

***

Asami sat on a rock a little ways from the giant tree. She ran every argument that she could think of through her head. Of course, if Iroh couldn’t find a way to Republic City and had to come back through the spirit portals he would be in danger anyway, but Asami was determined to tackle one problem at a time. As Iroh had said, the shortcut was just a theory, and she had no intention of leaving him without a way out in case it failed. She couldn’t fight all of Team Avatar by herself though, especially if Korra entered the mix. Her only chance was to talk her way in to convincing Tenzin and the Avatar to keep the portals open. 

She heard steps approaching behind her. Then, to her surprise, Bolin sat down next to her on the ground.

“I heard you and Tenzin yelling,” he said. “You okay?”

“Hi, Bolin” she said. It was about the only conversation she could manage.

“Why don’t you just tell Korra not to close them?” he asked.

“What?”

“Ask her not to close the portals for a while,” Bolin said. “Tenzin will listen to Korra. Everyone listens to Korra. You know, it’s all, ‘Oooh, Avatar, I trust the instincts of the Avatar.’ And you know”—Bolin glanced significantly back at Mako, who had rejoined Bumi and Kya by the tree—“it’s not like Korra doesn’t owe you. For… you know. Stuff.” 

“You really think she would listen to me over Tenzin?” Asami asked. She hadn’t thought of simply asking.

Bolin shrugged. “Tenzin is her teacher. You’re her friend.” Asami smiled, then stood. She put one hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Thanks, Bolin,” she said. She walked back to where Tenzin stood.

“Tenzin,” she said. “Can I… can I see Korra?” 

Tenzin nodded. “Of course. You understand that she can’t hear you though. Her consciousness is with her spirit.”

“I understand,” Asami said. “I’d like to see her anyway, if you don’t mind.” Tenzin nodded again, then walked over to where Bumi, Kya, and Mako stood with Unalaq’s twins. He spoke softly for a moment and then the whole group moved back, evidently to give her some space. 

Asami walked over to the enormous tree. From its base it looked even bigger, like standing at the base of a skyscraper. It’s bark was thick and gnarled, but worn almost smooth with what she assumed must be whatever kind of weather they had in the Spirit World. The crack in the tree itself was more than six feet off the ground, but she found that she could reach it easily by using the massive roots as stairs.

The gap in the tree opened into a surprisingly large space, perhaps the size of a bedroom, with a flat floor and a tall, vaulted ceiling. It looked less like a natural opening from inside, seeming instead to have been carved from the inside out by some expert craftsman. It was dim, but not dark. In the center of the opening, cross-legged on the floor, sat Korra.

Her eyes were closed, her hands resting loosely on her knees. If she hadn’t been sitting up, Asami would have thought that she was sleeping. She’d seen deep meditation, of course, but this seemed like even more than that. There was an odd sense of absence, somehow. Whatever Korra was doing, it was clear that she wasn’t here. Still, Asami had to try.

She walked over to Korra’s body and knelt down beside her. The Avatar didn’t move. Up close, it was hard to tell that she was even breathing.

“Korra,” Asami whispered. “I don’t know if you can hear me. But if you can, please. Listen. I need you to leave the spirit portals open, okay? Please. Everyone trusts you. Tenzin trusts you. Iroh trusts you. I… I trust you. I haven’t asked for much. But if you ever, even in your deepest heart, thought that you owed me, or had something to atone for, please. Please, leave them open. Please. Just in case.”

Korra opened her eyes.


	40. IROH

Iroh nodded, then closed his eyes. He crossed his legs and felt Asami’s little light press against him from the inside of his pocket. _All right,_ he thought. _Let go. Embrace air. Become air._

He breathed in and counted to ten. Then he breathed out. He thought about air. He imagined being light, weightless. He sat like that for a few minutes, just breathing, emptying himself. Then he opened his eyes. He was still on the blanket under the tree. As far as Iroh could see, nothing at all had changed except that his tea was cold.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked.

The old man shook his head. “You are still fire, Iroh. Not air. You are not letting go.”

“What does that even mean?” Iroh said, frustrated. “Letting go of what?”

“I knew a man once,” the old man said, “who wanted something that he did not have.” Iroh groaned inwardly. The man seemed incapable of giving him a straight answer about anything. 

“This man, he did not think why he should or should not have this thing. Only that he wanted it, and that it was not his. The desire for it burned in him, always. For years. Over time, it burned others, too. His wife, his family. They all suffered. One day, his desire to possess this thing to which he had no right made him do something which could not be forgiven. And he found, once he had done one unforgivable thing, he could do another. And another. And another. 

“This man, he hurt many people. And in the end, he did indeed possess the thing which he had so desired. For a time. But it came at a terrible cost, and I do not think it made him happy. There was not enough left of him by then, I think, to _be_ happy.” The old man shook his head, his eyes sad. “This man, Iroh. He died alone.”

Iroh nodded. It sounded like a sad story, but he had no idea what it had to do with his ability to get back to Republic City, and he was running out of time. “Thank you for the tea,” he said, and moved to stand.

“Have you noticed, perhaps, that your fire has turned blue?”

Iroh stopped. How did the old man know about that? “No... I didn’t… it was only once.” It sounded lame, even to him. 

“ _And he found, once he had done one unforgivable thing, he could do another,_ ” the old man repeated. He leaned forward, his bronze eyes grave. “I see this man in you, Prince Iroh. And it pains me. There is something that you desire, and that you do not have. It burns in you. But ask yourself, please. What have you done to earn this thing? Not to have it, but to _deserve_ to have it?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Iroh said. His heart beat a little faster. Perhaps the tea had been a mistake.

“Do you not? Tell me, then, how is your lightning bending?”

“What?” 

“Make some lightning for me, Prince Iroh. I would like to see it.”

Iroh looked down at his teacup, suddenly ashamed. “I… I can’t. You know I can’t, or you wouldn’t have asked me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“You’re a coward, Iroh.”

Iroh looked up sharply. “Excuse me?” He felt himself flush slightly. Why did it always come down to this particular accusation? His shame deepened. 

“You, Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, General of the United Forces, are a coward. That is what’s wrong with you.” 

“How dare you—” Iroh started. 

“This woman,” the man continued, as if Iroh hadn’t spoken. “You have kissed her, yes?” Iroh stopped. He had no idea how the old man knew any of this. “Tell me. What, then, did you do?”

“Nothing happened,” Iroh said angrily. There didn’t seem to be any point in lying to the man. He clearly knew all of Iroh's secrets, and then some. “She said to forget it.”

“No. That is not what I asked. What, immediately after, did _you_ do?”

Iroh thought. “I, uh. We were interrupted. I went into another room. Then we went out to meet the dark spirits. But I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“Ah,” said the old man, cutting him off again. “So, you left her.”

“What? No, it wasn’t like that, it was—” 

“Did you tell her before?”

“Tell her what?”

“What you were doing. How you felt.”

Iroh thought, then shook his head. He was so confused. What did kissing Asami have to do with lightning bending? And what did lightning bending or blue fire have to do with getting to Republic City? 

The old man nodded. “So you kissed her, saying nothing, and then walked away. And then she kissed _you,_ yes? Not that long ago. Here, in the Spirit World. What, then, did you do?”

“I—” Iroh stopped. He thought about it. “I left again,” he said, crestfallen. He ran one hand quickly through his hair. “But it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t that kind of kiss, and I needed to find my way… anyway she’d made it very clear…”

“So when, exactly, did you tell her how you felt? Was it when you talked to her in front of your new city gate? Or was it earlier, perhaps? When you touched her face and she said a name that was not yours?” The old man peered at him over his teacup. “Or is there a chance that you walked away from her then also?”

Iroh sat, stunned. Surely he’d been open about his intentions. Even Katara had said he’d been painfully obvious. It was just that now, he couldn’t remember exactly when. Asami had to know though. You don’t kiss someone the way he had kissed her and not know. She had to. 

Didn’t she?

“And what,” continued the old man, “did you tell her about scars?”

 _Scars?_ Iroh paused, thinking. He had no idea. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember.”

“Did you not say that injuries are rarely about what you can see on the outside?” Iroh nodded, his hand moving absently to the healed stab wound in his side. He didn’t remember this conversation, but it was true enough. 

“Letting go is not the same thing as running away,” the old man said. “I think that you have had the arrogance to think that everything is about you. And, yes, the cowardice to not be willing to face the consequences of your actions. _Think._ See it from her perspective. What, then, do you know?”

Iroh thought. What did he know? 

That Asami was brilliant, and beautiful, and fun, and kind. That she would have your back in a fight. That she couldn’t cook and hated mornings, and that any man would be lucky to spend the rest of his life waking her up. That she was brave and energetic and successful, and could probably have anything and anyone that she wanted on a long list of things that didn’t seem to include Iroh at all.

He paused. Except she couldn’t.

Because Asami’s success had come at a terrible cost. She’d only inherited the company after her father’s treachery and imprisonment. Given the choice between his daughter and the Equalist movement, he’d turned on her. Even worse, she had been the one to have to bring him to justice. 

Because once she’d stepped up to head Future Industries she’d faced doubts from customers, investors, and her own staff. She’d struggled to keep the business afloat, and fought a seemingly endless uphill battle against the perception that she was nothing more than Hiroshi Sato’s fragile, spoiled little girl.

Because her wealth and beauty had attracted a string of empty, vapid men who saw her as a trophy, not a person.

Because her friends were powerful benders, and that though she could hold her own in a fight, Asami would always be different. No amount of money or courage would change that.

Because despite all her advantages, one of those benders had left her for the woman she considered her closest friend.

Because she’d barely known her mother. 

And Iroh saw it. They left her. All of them. Everyone that Asami Sato had ever loved had left. Somehow this amazing, fierce, incredible woman had always come in second to something or someone else.

“Tell me, Prince Iroh,” the old man said, putting down his tea again. “What answer can this woman give to a question that you will not ask her? What might she think, if instead you are always walking away?”

Iroh said nothing. Spirits, he was no better than the rest of them. “But she’s in love with somebody else,” he said. 

“And when, exactly, did she tell you this?” Iroh opened his mouth, then closed it again. She hadn’t, of course. He’d only assumed. Katara had told him the same thing, too. He’d just been too stupid and tired and hurt to believe her. And Asami hadn’t reacted to Mako at all when they’d entered the Spirit World. Was it possible that he’d been that wrong?

The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Then what do you need to do, Iroh? Not to have this thing, but to deserve to have it?”

Iroh closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He saw Asami’s face again, stark and pale in the moonlight. She said nothing, her too-bright eyes unreadable. Except that this time, they weren’t. And it wasn’t confusion or disappointment that he saw in them. It was doubt.

Iroh looked back, and chose again. 

He pictured Asami the last time he’d seen her, her green eyes tinged with worry. A spot on his cheek tingled as he asked her the question on the tip of his tongue.

He saw her standing by the wall outside a frozen city, cheeks flushed with cold, and this time he did not hesitate. 

He did not walk away at Katara’s questions. He stood his ground, declared his interest openly, and accepted the result without fear.

They did not part at a doorway painted robin’s-egg blue.

He brushed the hair gently from her face in the morning, handed her a cup of tea, and asked her: _Will you?_

Iroh felt a painful tug around his heart. Then he imagined giving Asami a choice, a real choice, without fear, without shame, without anger. He imagined what it would mean to stay. Iroh reached into his pocket. _Let go,_ he thought. His hand closed around the portable light. 

He imagined what it would mean to deserve her.

_Will you? Will you? Will you? Will you?_

Iroh breathed out.


	41. IROH

When he opened his eyes, the open plain had disappeared. Instead, he was sitting on the floor in a dark and unfamiliar room. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Iroh saw that it appeared to be some kind of living room or parlor. It was huge, its vaulted ceilings rising at least 20 feet above the thick, plush carpeting. Heavy velvet curtains obscured nearly floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall to his right. An enormous stone fireplace fixed into the wall in the center of the room faced a long striped silk couch set between two carved oak end tables. The remaining walls were lined with bookshelves and cabinets, all made out of dark, heavy wood. Above them, a variety of oil paintings sat in fat gilded frames. The entire room gave the appearance of having been decorated by someone older, and with far more money than taste. 

He got to his feet and walked over to the couch, then touched it tentatively. It felt real enough, cool and smooth under his fingers. Iroh could hardly believe it. As far as he could tell, he was back in the physical world. The question was, where exactly  _ was  _ he? This wasn’t anywhere in Republic City that he was familiar with, though he supposed he could be inside any one of its hundreds of buildings. He glanced around the room, hoping for some indication of where he may have landed, but he came up short. Nothing looked familiar, and there were no family photos of the kind that had crowded the walls of Katara’s house. 

Iroh decided that it didn’t matter. The house had a slightly stuffy, empty feel, but there was too much at stake for him to get caught up explaining why he was breaking and entering. The quickest way to get his bearings would be to get outside. He made his way out of the living room into a tiled entryway, then quietly let himself out the large front door. 

The first thing he noticed was the heat. After so long at the South Pole, the outside felt like a sauna. Iroh hurried down a short stone pathway and on to the street before he ventured a look around. It was still dark, but it certainly looked like Republic City. He breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he was somewhere in the city, he should be able to orient himself and get back to his ship. 

Iroh glanced back at the building he’d exited and frowned. It appeared to be an enormous townhome of the type owned by the city’s wealthiest residents, and though they all looked about the same to him this particular building didn’t seem familiar. Iroh had no idea why he’d wound up in this particular place, let alone inside some rich person’s living room. Perhaps, for whatever reason, this was simply where the boundary was thinnest. 

Iroh turned back to the street and took off at a run.


	42. ASAMI

Asami sat alone on the deck of Varrick’s ship and stared out into the night. It was pitch black; the heavy clouds that had hung about the ship for days obscured any moon or stars. A few hooded bulbs set along the wall behind her the cast soft yellow light down onto the deck. Beyond the railing, there may as well have been nothing at all.

Asami felt the bench shift and was surprised to see that Mako had come to sit by her. It was well after midnight and she had assumed the others had already gone to bed. Lost in her own thoughts and the steady hum of the engine, she hadn’t even heard him coming.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” she answered, not looking at him. She wished he’d go away. She was in no mood for company, least of all Mako’s. 

“Asami,” he said, after a while. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” she said. Of course she was fine. She wasn’t the one that needed worrying about. It wasn’t like she was trapped alone in the Spirit World, or rotting in a dark cell in some military prison, or walking up a scaffold with a noose around her— She made herself stop. No. She was not going to think about that.

“You don’t seem fine,” Mako said. He took a deep breath, as if what came next made him uncomfortable. “Look, Asami, I’m not the only one who’s worried about you. You’ve been acting weird ever since we left the South Pole. You’re avoiding everyone. You look like you haven’t been sleeping. I got up in the middle of the night last night, and when I walked by your cabin I swore I heard you pacing.” He reached out and took her hand. “We’re just concerned, alright?” His red-gold eyes met hers. “ _I’m_ concerned.”

Asami gave him a blank look and pulled her hand away. 

“This isn’t about me, is it?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.” He seemed to relax a little. “Look. If you say you’re fine, okay. You don’t have to talk to me. That’s not why I came out here. Actually, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.” He paused. “Korra and I broke up,” he said finally. “I think for good this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” As Asami said it, she realized that she genuinely meant it. Korra and Mako had a lot in common, and at least someone deserved to be happy. 

“It’s for the best, I think,” Mako said. His voice sounded slightly bitter. “For both of us. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For not being honest with you, for being an asshole. All of it. I should have told you that sooner, but I didn’t know how. You deserve better than that, Asami. You deserve better than… than me.” He turned away, instead looking out over the railing of the ship. 

Asami said nothing. A few days ago she’d had hundreds of retorts for just such a scene, but now that she was in it she found that it didn’t matter. They sat there like that, in silence, for several minutes.

Eventually, Asami spoke. “It’s not all your fault, you know.”

“Sure it is.” He didn’t look at her.

“I’m not going to say you weren’t an asshole. You were. But don’t pretend I met all your needs, either.”

“It wasn’t you.”

“That’s your problem, Mako.”

“What do you mean?” he said. “My problem?” 

“Even when things aren’t right, you never say anything,” Asami said. “You just try to, I don’t know, tough it out somehow. Take it all on yourself. But it only winds up hurting people, and you probably most of all. I don’t know what you think you have to prove by suffering through things you don’t like.”

To her surprise, Mako snorted softly. “Like those neckties,” he said.

Asami smiled. He’d looked good in the neckties. “You hated dressing up, didn’t you?”

“Completely. And all those fancy restaurants with those spiky little fish dishes? I’ve never paid so much to feel so hungry. Honestly, I’m more of a bottomless ramen kind of guy.” Asami actually laughed at that. It felt nice.

“Well, I love pro-bending, but watching you work out with your brother and Korra is _not_ a date. Neither is a stakeout. I never understood where your work ended and your life began.”

Mako turned to her. His smile was a little sad. “Asami, you’re wasted on me. I felt like half the time I had no idea what you wanted, and the rest I was just trying to catch up.” 

“I never knew what you wanted, either. After a while, I just knew it wasn’t me.”

“I guess we both knew that,” he said. “I think I thought that if I didn’t say it, I could keep it from being true.” The engine hummed. Asami felt the first splatter of cold rain hit her cheek. 

“Asami?” Mako asked, after a while. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “Why is this so hard?”

“Why is what hard?”

“Just, I dunno.” He let out a frustrated breath. “Just being with someone, I guess. I thought it would be easier. To find somebody and just… be.”

“Because you’re only half of the equation,” Asami said.

“What does that mean?”

“That there’s a whole other person involved that isn’t you. You can’t control everything, Mako. They have their own wants and needs, and they aren’t always going to be the same as yours.” Asami smiled. “Sometimes that person likes a man in a necktie, for example. And sometimes it’s bigger than that, or maybe nothing you can put your finger on at all. You can’t do much about it though. All you can be is yourself and hope that’s enough.” She sighed. “Sometimes it isn’t.”

The rain was coming down harder now. They’d have to go inside soon or risk getting soaked. Mako glanced aside at her. “You didn’t just kiss him on the cheek, did you, Asami?”

She closed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It might,” said Mako. 

“Trust me, it doesn’t.” 

“Why not?”

“Because he didn’t... I’m not… it just doesn’t, all right?”

Mako reached over and squeezed her shoulder briefly. “You’re going to make somebody so happy someday. You know that, right?” Asami stared at her feet. Water had started to puddle between her shoes. 

Mako stood. “Iroh seems like a good man, Asami. Make sure you give him a chance for it to be him.”

Then he turned and walked away.


	43. ASAMI

Asami finally reached the door of the captain’s quarters on the lead battleship of the United Forces fleet. Varrick’s ship had docked less than a half hour before. She’d made her excuses as quickly as possible, avoiding a smug look from Mako, and headed off in the direction of the fleet. Given she was already at the docks it hadn’t taken long, but she’d had to ask several people for directions as to where she might find the general. She’d also had to negotiate two separate security checks; unsurprisingly, Iroh ran a tight ship. Thank goodness Future Industries was under contract.

She’d heard nothing at all from Iroh since he’d disappeared into the Spirit World. She had expected at least something from him, even just a short cable to let her know he was okay. Korra had of course told them of the outcome of the battle, and the incident was all over the news radio, but mentions of the United Forces fleet were only in passing. To the extent it was covered at all, most of the reports focused on how much damage the ships had taken.

Asami knocked on the door, slightly out of breath, her clothes and hair dripping from the steady rain outside. She turned the knob without waiting. It opened inwards onto a large space that looked nothing like the inside of a ship. The room was painted bright white, its paneling accented in gold leaf. Round lights, also set with gold, cast soft light from the low ceiling. A rich red carpet, interwoven with intricate patterns of gold and deep blue, padded the black and white tile floor. The walls were decorated with oil paintings, most of one nautical theme or another, interspersed with what Asami assumed were portraits of previous fleet commanders. Plush, comfortable furniture was scattered throughout, culminating in an enormous mahogany desk at the far end of the room. 

A man who was not Iroh sat behind the desk. He wore the bright red uniform of the United Forces and was perhaps the same age, but there the resemblance ended. About average height and build, with light tan skin and sandy hair, he wore thin wire spectacles balanced on a straight, slightly upturned nose. His lips had a pouty, almost feminine look. He appeared to be reading from the top of a stack of papers on the desk.

The man looked up at the sound of the door. “Excuse me?” he said. “This is a private residence. May I help you?”

“Oh! I… is this not the captain’s quarters?” It certainly looked like it. Asami couldn’t imagine a more lavish space could exist on a ship.

The man reached up and removed the spectacles. His eyes were a pale, seawater green. “It is. I’m Commander Cuzon. This is my office.” 

“Where is General Iroh?” Asami asked. She noted several open boxes stacked along the wall next to Cuzon’s desk. If this was indeed his office, it probably hadn’t been for long.

He squinted at her. “Aren’t you Asami Sato? From Future Industries?”

“Yes. I’m looking for Iroh. If this isn’t his office, where is it?”

Commander Cuzon frowned slightly. “General Iroh is no longer in command of this fleet,” he said. “Now, may I help you with something? Any business Future Industries had with Iroh they now have with me. I typically like appointments, but since you’re already here I’m willing to discuss it.” 

No longer in command of the fleet? Asami’s heart stopped. What on earth did that mean? “No, I need General Iroh. It’s… about something else. Please, do you know where he is?” 

Cuzon’s frown deepened. “No,” he said curtly, “I don’t. I haven’t seen him lately. You can try his cabin if you must though. Right, then the third door on the left, I believe.”

“Thank you.” She turned to go.

“You’re not fucking that nerd, are you?” He said it casually, the slightest emphasis on the swear, as if he was asking her if she was disappointed that it was still raining.

Asami stopped, stunned. At first she didn’t think she’d heard him right. Behind her, she heard Cuzon turn a page on the stack he’d been reading.

“Well, Miss Sato, when you do want to talk business, let me know. I think the fleet and Future Industries could do a lot together. You know my office now.” 

Asami hurried out the door, not looking back. She blushed, angry and embarrassed all at once. _Of all the vile…_ _how could he think…_ She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had no idea who this Commander Cuzon was, but it was clear that he had no love for Iroh. She’d get no more help from him, and that was what mattered. And if he was in charge of the fleet now, what did that mean? Her fear ratcheted up another notch.

She heard the large door shut behind her. He was a metalbender, then. She turned right and walked as quickly as she could down the passageway. 

Asami counted and arrived outside a large steel door set into the gray wall of the passage. She knocked. Nothing. “Iroh?” she said. No answer. She knocked again, then tried the lever. It turned easily. Two security checkpoints, and yet no one seemed to lock their doors.

The door opened onto a small room. Inside, the walls were the same uniform gray as the rest of the ship. A large desk sat to the immediate left of the doorway next to a wardrobe that seemed to have been converted into a neatly organized bookshelf. Asami noted a wooden chest of drawers, a closet, a single square window, and the door to what might have been a tiny bathroom. A narrow bed was pushed up against the back wall, flanked by a lamp on a nightstand. Someone had mounted a rather beautiful full-color map of the Fire Nation above the headboard. That was it. 

Iroh lived… here? She was at once surprised and not. On the one hand, it hardly looked like the room of a prince or a high-ranking general. She had expected something much closer to the rich quarters where she’d found Commander Cuzon. Yet at the same time, it was very much like Iroh. Neat and clean, the room had everything he needed and nothing he didn’t. She found herself smiling at that, even as her fear for him increased.

It was clear that Iroh wasn’t home though. It wasn’t like he could hide in a room like this. She called out just in case, but was greeted with only silence. With everything so neat, it was impossible for her to tell whether or not he had been here recently. She thought she caught a faint whiff of cologne, but that was all. 

_ Where are you, Iroh? _ she thought.  _ Oh spirits, where are you? _


	44. ASAMI

Asami walked slowly up the long drive that led to the Sato estate a few hours later. As tired as she was, she’d still had the cab drop her at the gate. That way she could at least pretend, if just to a stranger, that there was someone home to care that she was back. The hill was steep, but the mild exercise helped her think. There wasn’t much else she could do this late, but first thing in the morning she intended to call in every favor she or Future Industries had owed to try to find out what had happened to Iroh. The list of favors was by no means short, either, especially in the government; hopefully at least someone would have a lead on what she should do next. 

Lost in her thoughts, Asami trudged steadily up towards the house. At least the rain had stopped. It was full dark now, but she’d lived there most of her life and had no trouble finding her way. So she was quite a ways up the drive before she glanced towards the covered porch. The dark figure of a man was silhouetted against the porch light, seated on the stairs leading up to the door. Asami froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She hadn’t even thought to unpack her glove, and she realized too late that it was with the rest of her things on the cargo ship. She tensed, wondering if she should simply run, when the figure looked up and… closed a book?

Asami yelped and started running, not away, but straight towards the door. She collided with the figure as he stood, flung her arms around him and squeezed with all her might.

“Whoa, hey, hi, ow,” Iroh said. After a surprised moment he hugged her as well. “It’s good to see you, too,” he laughed. Asami didn’t let go. In that moment Iroh felt like the only solid thing in the world. Eventually she felt him lean his head against hers. Then he just held her there, gently stroking her back with one hand. “Hey,” he asked quietly, “you okay?”

Asami nodded into his shoulder, then stepped back and looked him up and down, just to make sure he was real. Iroh was once again dressed in his red United Forces uniform. It was clean and pressed, or had been a minute ago, and he looked every inch the general. Except for something in his posture perhaps; he looked more relaxed than she’d usually seen him in uniform. More like how he’d been when they’d been camping in the Earth Kingdom, perhaps. As she looked closer, she noticed a fading bruise on one cheek and a long, healing cut along his jaw that hadn’t been there when he’d left her in the Spirit World. He must have seen at least some action since then. But he didn’t seem seriously hurt, and if he was wearing his uniform it must mean he was still with the United Forces. She breathed an inward sigh of relief.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. Now that the surprise had worn off, Asami was surprised to find that she was angry. “I’ve been looking for you for hours, and no one seemed to know where you were. I went to all of the ships, and when I finally found your door you weren’t there, and this horrible man named Cuzon, he said he hadn't seen you. I went to City Hall, too, but it was too late and no one would see me.”

“You did?” Iroh looked surprised. “I, um. Actually, I’ve been here. I heard your ship was coming in this afternoon. I had other business and wasn’t able to meet it, but I came here as soon as I was free. I thought that you would come straight home. I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t, so I stayed.”

“You’ve been _here_ all afternoon?” she asked, dumbfounded. “On my stairs?”

Iroh tucked the book he’d been reading into his jacket. “Well… yes.” 

Asami had spent so much time looking for him, it had somehow never occurred to her that Iroh would come looking for her as well. She didn’t know what to think, and was trying hard not to read too much into his actions.

“But… what happened? I didn’t hear anything after you went off into the Spirit World. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Iroh said. He seemed slightly confused. “It’s a bit of a long story, but the short version is that we were right. I was able to come from the Spirit World straight to Republic City, though I had a little help in doing so. The fleet took a beating, but we pulled through all right. UnaVaatu is gone, and despite all of these weird spirit vines and a lot of building damage, on the whole I think things could have been quite a bit worse.” He fingered the cut on his jaw. “I don’t know that I made much of a difference personally though, unless you count being a spirit vine punching bag. Avatar Korra did all the real work. I’d assumed you’d heard most of this on the radio, though. The Battle of Republic City is pretty much all anyone talks about.”

“But why didn’t you send word to Varrick’s ship at least? To tell me what happened? Or at least that you were okay?” The news had not mentioned anyone involved in the battle by name besides Korra.

Iroh looked baffled. “I didn’t realize that you wanted me to,” he said. 

Asami paused. How could he not know that she’d want to know if he was alive? That not knowing had kept her awake and worried sick for more than a week? She felt her anger dissolving. After all they’d been through, did he really not know how much she cared about him? 

“What about President Raiko?” she asked, her voice quieter. “This guy Cuzon seemed to think you were no longer in command of the fleet. Was there trouble?”

“Not exactly trouble, no,” he said. “Katara tells me I’m a bad liar, so I said I’d been camping and had only just gotten back. It was technically true.” Iroh smirked. “At any rate, there was no evidence that I had been anywhere I wasn’t supposed to be. I got quite the lecture after the battle though. I think Raiko suspected I’d been up to something and was livid that he couldn’t prove it.” 

Iroh shuffled a little, kicking a small rock off the path and into the shrubbery with the toe of one black boot. “So, as I said, no real trouble. But Raiko did have me re-assigned—he can do that himself, no questions asked. He said that if I liked getting lost in the Republic so much I could, how did he put it? _“Fucking well stay here,”_ I believe he said. Commanders Bumi and Cuzon will split my former command of the fleet. Cuzon isn’t exactly a friend, but he’s a good commander, and he’s had his eye on my job for quite a while. I’m sure he can manage to handle half of it. And Bumi is more than capable. Instead, I’ll be leading the Forces contingent involved in the reconstruction efforts here in Republic City for as long as needed, and then head up the permanent defense of the Republic under the United Forces banner. I don’t think anyone can argue anymore that we don’t need one. Technically, it’s a promotion, though I’m pretty sure Raiko meant it as a punishment.”

Asami couldn’t believe it. Not only was Iroh alright, but he’d be staying in Republic City. “That’s incredible, Iroh! Congratulations. I know we could use you here. When do you start?” She checked herself. “That is, I hope you’re not too upset?”

Iroh smiled, evidently pleased by her reaction. “Not at all. Effective last week. I’ve been dragging my feet a little though. It turns out that I need a counterpart, equivalent rank but on the civilian side. It’s a new position. I know a talented engineer who would be absolutely perfect, but I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet if she’s interested. I’d have to bid out any contracts of course, and Future Industries would be highly competitive given the work, but as long as the process is fair and above board I don’t see why we couldn’t have a highly-qualified engineering company president take the role. And I have good reason to believe that we’d make an excellent team.” Iroh looked down and scuffed his feet a little. Then he ran one hand quickly through his hair and met her eyes. “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to work with me again?”

Was he kidding? Working with Iroh on rebuilding the city instead of designing weapons? Plus the potential to grow Future Industries in the process? It was basically a dream job. Her mind filled with visions of sensor signal lights and dedicated motorbike lanes and interceptor valve sewers. 

“Is that why you’re here?” she asked. “To offer me a job?”

“No, actually.” Iroh reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out. “I came to bring back a prototype. I believe I took excellent care of it, but I wanted to return it to its rightful owner as soon as possible.” He opened his palm to reveal her portable light. “A brilliant inventor let me borrow it, but I understand it’s one of a kind. A museum will want it one day.” 

He thought that her invention belonged in a museum? It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. Without thinking Asami threw her arms around Iroh’s neck, stood on her toes, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. 

It took Asami a second before she realized what she’d done. She hadn’t thought about it at all, but it seemed like everything had so suddenly changed that she had just… slipped. So much for being better than that. She felt her face grow hot. Asami lowered herself down, arms still around his neck, and forced herself to open her eyes. Iroh was staring at her with a combination of shock and unmistakable delight. He chuckled quietly, almost to himself. Then he leaned down, slowly, and pressed his lips to hers. 

His kiss was soft and brief, almost tentative. Iroh pulled away and searched her face, curious, as if determining the result of some important experiment. Asami gave him a stunned smile and he nodded slightly. Then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, this time more firmly. His mouth was very warm. Her nose filled with the smell of him as she closed her eyes; fresh soap, the barest hint of cologne, and something else underneath that she liked but couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just his own scent. Her heart thudded in her chest as his lips parted hers, gentle yet insistent, never rushing. Exploring. Familiar, yet new. She pulled him into her, finally remembering to kiss him back, to kiss him, to kiss Iroh, her Iroh, again and again and again and again. The fabric of his collar was rough against her fingers. He pressed her close, and she felt the portable light dig slightly into her back. Nobody had ever kissed her like this before, steadily, patiently, thoroughly. It felt like being seen. Like coming home.

When they finally parted, Iroh was grinning, gold eyes alight. He rested his forehead against hers, their noses just brushing. “Okay,” he breathed.

“Okay.” She felt like she was spinning. 

“For the record, I refuse to pretend that didn’t happen this time.”

“Yes,” Asami laughed, a little breathless. “That definitely happened. Actually, I think the other one happened, too.”

“Good,” he said. “I liked the other one.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“Asami,” Iroh said abruptly, stepping back slightly to look at her. “May I buy you dumplings?”

“What?” 

“Dumplings,” he said. “If you’ve been running around looking for me all evening, you probably haven’t eaten. There’s a great place not far from here that I think you’d enjoy. It’s not fancy, but the food is very good.” 

“Buy me dumplings. Like, a date?” 

“Yes.” Iroh straightened a little. “Exactly like a date. In fact, it is a date. I would like to take you on a date.” He held out his hand, face hopeful. “Asami Sato, will you go on a date with me?”

Asami took his hand, grinning. “Yes. Of course. I’d love that.” Iroh beamed at her, looking for all the world like she’d given him a pile of gold instead of just her hand. “Okay, then.” He started walking, pulling at her arm. 

“Wait, right now?” Asami looked down at herself. She still wore her traveling clothes, which were rumpled and stained from a week at sea. Her boots were muddy from her trek around the city in the rain, and she didn’t even want to think about her hair. Iroh, on the other hand, looked like he’d just walked out of a United Forces recruiting poster, or maybe some kind of calendar. 

“Is there a problem?” he asked. “I thought you’d be hungry.”

She was hungry. “I should at least shower and change. I’m all—” she waved a hand down at herself, “and you’re all—” she gestured to Iroh’s spotless uniform. “Maybe in a few hours…”

Iroh sighed, then reached one hand up and ruffled his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. It did not make him look any less handsome.

“There,” he said. “Now we match. Come on. You’re beautiful.”

Asami blushed. He said that so matter-of-factly. It was hard to argue.

They started back down the drive, Iroh’s hand warm against her own. Apparently, wherever he had in mind was walking distance. There was something that still bothered her though. Best get it out of the way though. Asami braced herself.

“What is it now?” Iroh asked. He must have noticed the change in her expression.

“What about your family?” 

Iroh looked at her, puzzled. “What about them?”

“I mean, I know we just, and it’s not even anything, but with my not being a firebender and all, or even any kind of bender…” Asami trailed off as his face darkened. 

“Spirits, when did I ever give you the impression that I cared about that? And if I don’t, why on earth would my family?”

“Iroh, you’re Fire Nation royalty.”

“And? My mother isn’t a bender. Honora, not Izumi. Come to think of it, neither is grandma Mai. If the last two Firelords themselves could marry non-benders, no one will even look twice at what I do. Not that I… that we…” He looked suddenly very uncomfortable. 

She hadn’t known that about his family. Probably because he hadn’t thought to mention it. He must really not care after all. Asami felt the knot in her chest loosen. They walked a little in silence, Iroh looking thoughtful.

“Asami,” he said after a while, “is that why you didn’t—why you told me to forget it? You thought I cared about _bending_ ability?” 

“No. I mean, not really. Maybe a little. But you were the one who—” She paused. What exactly _had_ he said? “I didn’t think you were all that interested. Now that I think about it, I suppose I liked you too much to be okay with something casual. Why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“I thought you were in love with Mako,” he said simply. 

“ _What?_ What made you think that?”

To her surprise he blushed slightly. “Just something you said. And I wanted to respect that. Mostly. Except for the part where I kissed you. And then after, when you blew me off, I thought that must be why. Or at least some of why.” 

“Blew you off? I didn’t—”

“But you were the one who—”

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing. “I’m starting to see the problem,” Iroh said. “I think the old man had a point.”

“Old man?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“So when did you first know?” Asami asked. “I’m curious exactly how wrong I was.”

Iroh looked thoughtful. “The day before the South Pole, I think. It had been coming on slowly all along, but you said something, something about you and Mako that made me think of you two, er, together. You probably don’t even remember. And I went absolutely blind with jealousy. I hardly know the man, but I think if Mako had been there that morning I might have hit him.” He smiled at her. “It was a pretty good sign.”

“So that’s why you were so angry that day? I couldn’t figure it out.”

“Yeah, it was,” Iroh said. “What about you?

“Pai sho,” Asami said quickly. She hadn’t even known that was what she was going to say until she did. Iroh looked at her inquiringly. “I haven’t been that well-matched in years. There aren’t a lot of men who can give me a run for my money like that. I liked it.”

“I only beat you once.”

“That’s once more than everyone else I’ve dated.”

Iroh laughed. “Spirits, we’ve been idiots, haven’t we?”

Asami smiled. “Looks like. We’ll need to work on that.” 

They were out past the front gate by now. The street lights cast soft yellow cones of light down onto the glistening pavement. Iroh stopped walking and turned. 

“Okay, no more of that nonsense,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I like you, Asami. And _not_ just as friends. Romantically. Very much. I have no reservations about that interest. I would like to take you on as many dates as you will allow me to do, and I have no problem telling anyone who asks me that that’s what I’m doing. I hope that I am perfectly clear.” She saw something else in his eyes now, something that reminded her a bit of how he’d looked at her right before that first kiss. A hungry look. A wanting look. “I would also like to kiss you again,” he said. 

He did. There was more heat to the kiss now, and suddenly Asami was very aware of Iroh’s hand on her waist. 

“I like you too, Iroh,” she said once they’d parted. “In case that wasn’t obvious. There isn’t anybody else. Not Mako, not anyone. I would like to go on all these dates with you, but be prepared that you aren’t going to pay as often as you’d like unless you can beat me at Pai Sho again.” 

Iroh laughed. “Challenge accepted.”

“I would also be delighted to work with you on reconstruction. I promise, for my part, to try not to embarrass the United Forces too much by kissing the head of their delegation in the break rooms and broom closets of City Hall. Or at least not getting caught at it.” Iroh went a little pink, but smiled. 

“We’ll manage,” he said.

“I think we will.”

“All right, I’m glad we got that out of the way then.” Iroh put an arm around her and they started walking again. “Now, I do believe it’s time to feed my hungry pilot. Come on. You’re going to love this place. Not a single dish is boiled in a bag, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> AWOL was inspired by three things. First, Asami Sato was treated like dirt in season one. So when General Iroh came on the scene I was like, ‘Oh, there you go girl, go get yourself a smoking hot firebender who will actually appreciate you.’ And then… nothing happened. I mean, less than nothing, like I don’t think they even had a scene together after the first season. Instead, in LOK2 she went crawling back to Mako on a break? That’s some B.S. Sigh.
> 
> Second, I thought that General Iroh was a completely wasted character. Not only was he not being used to expand LOKs dating options, after a while I actually started to feel bad for the guy. All he ever did was show up and get his fleet shredded, or get told to stand down or surrender. I wanted to see what would happen if someone invested a little in helping him be more proactive, instead of only being used as a foil for Team Avatar to then come save the day.
> 
> Third, further fueling my feelings of disappointment, I stumbled upon this gif early in watching the show: https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/831/734/363.gif. I learned later that it was fan art, but it’s so good that at the time I thought it must be a capture from later in the show. For a two second clip, it’s amazingly expressive. What I love about it is that, if you look closely, the kiss is entirely on Iroh’s part. Asami looks, if anything, surprised. So it made me wonder. What had happened to make Iroh kiss Asami like that? And what happened after?


End file.
